•U".      $«Ur«*S^ 


3*e-:-^fSBK»H  >K-7^9S2Sc7fva«iw>  • 


MTiii 


nan  jHia.  HOB  .Ban. 


A  WIFE'S  HONOR 


A  NOVEL. 


AUTHOR  OF  "  ONLY  A  WOMAN'S  HEART,"  ETC. 


"  Say,  what  is  honor?     '77.9  the  finest  sense 
Of  justice  which  the  human  mind  can  frame, 
Intent  each  lurking  frailty  to  disclaim, 
And  guard  the  -way  of  all  offense 
Sujftred or  done" 

— [WORDSWORTH. 


CHICAGO: 

GEO.  W.  OGILVIE,  PUBLISHER, 
230  Lake  Street 


COPYRIGHTED,    1885, 

-BY- 


A  WIFE'S  HONOR. 


CHAPTER  I. 

CHESTER'S  WI*E. 

"  Undoubtedly  he  will  relent  and  turn 

From  his  displeasure."— Milton. 

"  I  can  go  alone,  Chester.  You  need  not  bore  yourself 
with  my  society.  It  is  altogether  unnecessary." 

The  words  were  spoken  with  a  hauteur  of  tone  and 
gesture  which  were  quite  unusual  to  the  speaker.  She 
slowly  arose  from  her  half-reclining  posture  upon  the 
rustic  bench,  and  turned  away  with  an  assumption  of  in- 
difference. 

Chester  Boynton,  who  had  been  lying  upon  the  velvety 
grass  near  her  for  the  last  hour,  slowly  faced  her,  a  slight 
frown  setting  upon  his  brow. 

"  I  find  it  very  pleasant  here,"  he  slowly  said,  a  tinge 
of  coldness  in  his  tone. 

"  Then  remain,  by  all  means,"  the  young  wife  retorted 
with  the  sharpness  prompted  by  pique. 

"  I  wouldn't  have  you  disturb  yourself  to  please  me  for 
anything,"  she  continued,  moving  slowly,  yet  resolutely 
up  the  slope.  "  It  appears  we  can  do  nicely  without  each 
other  of  late.  When  we  are  together  something  unplea- 
sant is  sure  to  be  said,  and  we  both  get  angry.  Of  course 
the  blame  all  lies  with  me,  for  you  think  it  does.  It  is 
strange  that  your  wonderful  power  of  reading  human  na- 
ture did  not  teach  you  better  than  to  bind  yourself  for 
life  to  one  of  my  disposition.  For  I  didn't  mean  to  de- 
ceive you.  We  quarreled  before  we  were  married! " 

Mr.  Boynton  averted  his  face  while  she  was  speaking, 
whether  to  hide  a  smile  or  a  frown  could  not  be  seen. 

"  You  will  fall  into  a  better  mood  by  and  by,  Tracy," 
he  said. 


2073070 


6  CHESTER'S  WIFE. 

There  was  more  of  carelessness  than  reproach  in  his 
tones.  It  had  better  been  plain  reproach,  for  there  is 
nothing  so  dangerous  as  an  assumption  of  indifference 
toward  a  sensitive  soul. 

Mrs.  Boynton  was  keenly  sensitive,  imaginative,  affec- 
tionate. She  was  beautiful  herself,  and  an  admirer  of 
the  beautiful.  There  was  much  in  her  character  which 
was  rare  and  loveable;  yet  it  was  not  goodness  nor  amia- 
bility without  alloy.  That  never  exists  in  this  world — 
and  it  is  perpetually  looked  for;  hence  arises  perpetual 
disappointment. 

Tracy  Boynton  quickened  her  steps,  unmindful  of  the 
increasing  steepness  of  the  ascent.  For  the  scene  was 
upon  a  mountain  side,  near  a  small,  quiet  summer  hotel 
perched  upon  a  grassy  plot  with  a  steep,  zigzag  road  be- 
low and  an  almost  perpendicular  pathway  above.  In  a 
momem  the  young  wife  had  passed  beyond  the  view  of 
Mr.  Boynton. 

Toward  the  base  of  the  mountain  the  sides  were  cov- 
ered with  patches  of  verdure,  mottled  with  gray  rocks  and 
shaded  by  clumps  of  trees.  But  as  you  ascended  the 
way  became  steeper,  and  the  rocks  predominated,  grow- 
ing rugged  and  sharp.  In  places  steps  had  been  chiseled 
to  make  the  heights  more  easily  accessible.  There  were 
occasional  tufts  of  grass  and  shrubbery  all  the  way,  grow- 
in»  from  clefts,  and  sustained  by  thin  patches  of  soil. 

Tracy  Boynton  ran  up  the  path  with  a  reckless  swift- 
ness. There  were  places  where  a  misstep  would  have 
cost  her  her  life — or  at  best  fractured  limbs.  But  in  the 
heat  of  her  resentment  she  tempted  fate.  What  if  she 
should  fall  ?  she  asked  herself.  Would  her  husband  care  ? 
If  he  did  care,  why  did  he  refuse  to  humor  her  wish,  and 
climb  the  steep  at  her  side? 

Of  course  these  questionings  were  unreasonable,  and 
when  the  flash  of  anger  was  past  she  would  see  them  to 
have  been  so.  But  now  her  resentful  feelings  were  fed 
by  them,  and  as  she  ran  on  and  on  she  almost  wished  that 
she  might  fall  and  be  killed — by  accident. 


CHESTER'S  WIFE.  7 

She  reached  a  small  level  space.  There  was  a  large 
tree — a  white  maple — shading  the  little  oasis  upon  the 
ledgy  mountain -side.  It  was  a  lovely  spot,  with  its  cool 
shade,  the  brisk  breeze,  the  cool  spring  of  water  in  a 
natural  cleft,  and  the  world  bright  and  warm  spread  be- 
low. 

Flushed  and  panting  she  sank  down  beside  the  tree, 
and  leaned  her  throbbing  brow  against  the  rough  bark. 
A  few  passionate  tears  came  into  her  eyes.  But  she 
brushed  them  away  with  one  slender  hand,  and  gazed 
resolutely  upon  the  enchanting  landscape  spread  below. 

The  heat  of  her  impulse  passed  away  almost  impercep- 
tibly. She  pesently  found  nerself  wondering  if  her  hus- 
band was  not  even  then  climbing  the  ascent  in  quest  of 
her.  She  bent  eagerly  forward,  in  hopes  to  catch  a 
glimpse  of  him  before  he  should  perceive  her. 

But  the  moments  passed  and  Chester  Boynton  did  not 
appear. 

"I'll  wait  till  he  does  come?"  she  said  aloud,  her  sweet 
face  brightening  with  a  smile. 

"I'll  cure  him  of  his  ugly  whims,"  she  continued,  her 
tones  half -playful,  half  resentful.  "  He  is  so  glum  of 
late  that  he  needs  stirring  up.  It  is  all  because  of  those 
dreadful  classics.  He  buries  himself  in  them  so  deeply 
that  it  never  occurs  to  him  that  his  young  wife  is  pretty 
and  childish.  For  I  am  pretty,  and  I  can  see  it  so  plainly 
in  the  face  of  everybody  who  looks  at  me.  Not  that  I 
care  about  it,  only  for  him.  But  for  my  husband  I  had 
as  soon  be  as  ugly  as  Herate!" 

Tracy's  soliloquy  was  as  earnestly  spoken  as  though  it 
were  to  father-confessor.  She  rose  to  her  feet  and  paced 
the  level  space  to  and  fro.  Then  she  went  and  drank 
from  the  spring,  dipping  the  water  with  the  cocoanut 
shell  cup. 

An  hour  passed.  The  delicious  breeze  suddenly  died 
away,  and  as  suddenly  the  brigntness  upon  the  landscape 
below  became  overcast  by  a  dark,  creeping  shadow. 

Tracy  Boynton  did  not  notice  this  shadow  until  it 


8  CHESTER*S   WIFE. 

readied  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  huge  maple.  Then 
she  was  startled,  not  only  by  the  increasing  darkness,  but 
by  an  abrupt,  heavy  rumble,  as  though  a  large  boulder 
had  become  detached  and  was  rolling  down  the  mountain- 
side. 

An  upward  glance  explained  it  all,  and  Mrs.  Boynton 
was  thrilled  by  an  impetuous  wish  to  descend  to  the 
hotel. 

It  was  one  of  those  sudden  summer  storms,  that  come 
up  so  quickly,  and  sometimes  develop  so  much  fury.  It 
had  gatheied  in  the  southwest,  and  the  heights  of  the 
mountain  had  hidden  until  it  was  nearly  overhead. 

Tracey  started  toward  the  path,  bent  upon  leaving  the 
spot  which  a  moment  before  was  so  attractive,  but  which 
now  had  become  so  lonely. 

Upon  the  instant,  however,  another  impulse  seized  her, 
and  she  returned  with  resolute  face  to  the  spring,  and 
seated  herself  upon  a  broad,  flat  rock. 

"  Chester  must  have  seen  the  storm  coming,"  she  ex- 
claimed aloud,  her  lips  fluttering  with  a  renewed  sense 
of  injury.  "And  he  ought  to  have  come  in  quest  of  me. 
How  does  he  know  that  I  am  not  detained  by  a  mishap? 
Would  he  leave  me  to  face  the  storm  alone,  upon  the 
mountain-side?  If  he  cares,  he  will  come.  If  he  doesn't 
come,  then  I  will  stay !" 

The  resolution  once  taken,  found  justification  through 
a  new  course  of  reasoning.  She  was  angry  again ;  and  in 
anger  no  decision  can  be  right. 

It  soon  became  evident  that  she  could  not  have  reached 
the  hotel  before  the  storm  broke,  even  if  she  had  attempt- 
ed to  do  BO. 

A  swift,  fitful  gust  awept  through  the  great  maple,  caus- 
ing it  to  shiver,  as  with  dread.  A  dash  of  large  rain  drops 
at  the  same  time  splashed  and  rattled  all  around,  and 
then  ceased.  Then  came  another  dash,  a  dull  gleam  of 
lightning,  a  nearer  growl  of  thunder,  and  last  a  low,  in- 
creasing roar  of  falling  rain. 

Tracy  Boynton  was  mortally  afraid  of  lightning;  she 


CHESTER^  WIPE.  9 

had  once  received  a  shock  from  a  passing  bolt,  and  had 
never  recovered  from  the  sense  or  dread  with  which  it 
had  inspired  her.  And  now  realizing  the  loneliness  and 
possible  peril  of  her  position,  she  crouched  upon  the  rock, 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  trembled  with  a 
wild,  overpowering  fear. 

She  was  speedily  drenched  with  the  rain;  little  rivue- 
lets  trickled  around  her,  while  the  rock  upon  which  she 
sat  threatened  to  become  submerged.  Yet  she  dared  not 
stir.  The  lightning  glared,  the  thunder  crashed,  and  in 
the  dread  inspired  by  these,  minor  discomforts  were  for- 
gotten. 

The  moments  passed  slowly  enough.  It  seemed  like 
an  hour  after  the  storm  began  that  she  was  aroused  from 
her  lethargy  of  dread  by  a  new  sound.  In  reality  the 
period  was  less  then  ten  minutes. 

She  uncovered  her  face  and  sprang  eagerly  to  her  feet, 
with  a  cry  of  joy ;  Chester  had  come— no !  It  was  not 
her  husband.  The  one  advancing  was  taller  than  Mr. 
Boynton,  and  unmistakably  handsomer. 

The  man  paused,  staring  at  the  slender,  dripping  fig- 
ure before  him.  His  clear,  blue  eyes  expressed  first,  won- 
der; then  recognition;  and  then,  pleasure.  He  sprang 
forward,  held  out  both  hands  in  a  frank,  eager  way. 

"Tracy  Sherman,  as  I  live!"  he  cried. 

His  was  a  cheery,  musical  voice;  and  for  the  young 
wife  of  Chester  Boynton  it  brought  only  pleasant  recol- 
lections. She  permitted  her  hands  to  rest  for  a  moment 
in  his  cordial  grasp,  forgetting  for  the  instant  the  situ- 
ation and  even  her  identity.  But  it  all  flashed  back  upon 
her  quickly  enough. 

"  You  forget,  Mr.  Temple,"  she  returned,  a  slight 
flush  relieving  the  pallor  of  her  face.  "  I'm  no  longer 
Tracy  Sherman.  I  am —  " 

''  Mrs.  Chester  Boynton,"  he  supplied,  as  she  hesitated. 
Did  she  imagine  it?  Or  was  there  a  tinge  of  regret  in 
his  tones,  matched  by  a  slight  contraction  of  brow?  If 
they  were  really  present,  they  passed  quickly  enough. 


10  CHESTER'S  WIFE. 

Philip  Temple  could  never  wear  a  moody  brow  for  more 
than  a  minute  at  a  time. 

"  I  did  forget  for  an  instant — because  I  was  so  sur- 
prised, I  suppose,"  he  went  on.  There  came  a  vivid 
lightning  flash  just  then,  and  the  succeeding  thunder 
was  so  heavy  that  he  could  not  have  made  himself  heard 
had  he  wished  to  do  so. 

Besides,  Mrs.  Boynton  was  holding  her  hands  to  her 
ears,  to  shut  out  the  deafening  crash. 

"Isn't  it  terrible!"  she  breathlessly  exclaimed,  a  mo- 
ment later. 

"  Rather  wet,  to  be  sure,"  Mr.  Temple  replied.  At 
the  same  time  a  look  of  amused  perplexity  came  into  his 
eyes,  and  he  asked: 

"  Isn't  this  a  new  freak  of  yours,  Tracy  ?  I  don't  rec- 
ollect ever  seeing  you  select  such  a  spot  as  this  for  wit- 
nessing a  thunder  storm.  I  thought  you  used  to  be 
timid." 

"  I  am  timid,"  she  hastened  to  reply.  Of  course  she 
could  not  tell  him  why  she  was  there,  nor  why  she  had 
not  returned  to  the  hotel.  So  she  hastened  to  add : 

"  I  didn't  see  the  storm  until  a  moment  before  it  be- 
gan raining,  so  I  preferred  remaining  to  making  an  at- 
tempt at  descent.  It  is  so  steep,  you  know." 

*A  wise  decision.  And  your  husband — he  is  at  the 
hotel,  I  suppose  ? " 

"  It  is  more  likely  that  he  is  looking  for  me,"  she  de- 
clared, quickly.  Not  for  the  world  would  she  have  Philip 
Temple  suspect  the  truth. 

"And  the  poor  fellow  is  doubtless  in  a  fever  of  anxi- 
ety," the  other  hastened  to  say,  adding  : 

"  It  is  cruel  to  keep  him  in  such  suspense.  Permit 
me  to  assist  you  to  descend.  The  storm  is  nearly  over. 
And  then  you  can  present  me  to  your  husband,  for  I've 
a  curiosity  to  see  such  a  lucky  fellow  !  " 

This  was  spoken  in  a  light  vein,  and  from  anothei 
would  not  have  been  noticed  by  Mrs.  Boynton.  But  she 
had  reason  to  believe  that  this  man  by  her  side  consid- 


THE    NEW    COMER.  11 

ered  Chester  Boynton  as  especially  fortunate  in  winning 
what  he  had  failed  to  secure. 

Five  years  ago — how  much  had  happened  since  !  —she 
had  refused  an  offer  of  marriage  from  Philip  Temple. 
And  this  meeting  upon  the  mountain-side,  amid  the  din 
of  the  elements,  brought  back  old  memories  with  pecu- 
liar vividness.  And,  vaguely,  she  wondered  if  he  had 
outlived  his  disappointment. 

"  Yes,  let  us  descend,"  she  said,  with  a  nervous  shiver. 
"  There  may  be  showers  follow  this  one,  and  I  should 
feel  safer  at  the  hotel." 

She  took  his  proffered  arm,  and  together  they  began  the 
descent.  Reaching  a  level  place,  a  short  distance  below, 
they  paused  to  take  breath. 

The  rain  was  falling  heavily  still,  and  it  was  evident 
that  the  storm  had  not  spent  itself.  Indeed,  it  seemed 
to  be  gathering  strength  for  another  and  stronger  out- 
burst. 

They  were  about  to  proceed  over  the  slippery  rocks, 
when  they  were  blinded  by  a  vivid  blaze  of  lightning, 
accompanied  by  a  terrible  crash. 

Philip  Temple  caught  the  form  of  his  companion  in 
time  to  prevent  her  from  falling  down  the  declivity.  For 
a  moment  her  head  dropped  upon  his  shoulders,  and  her 
eyes  were  closed.  But  they  opened  quickly,  and  in  time 
to  behold  a  look  upon  his  face  which  was  not  soon  for- 
gotten. At  this  juncture  a  third  figure  appeared  upon 
the  scene. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE   NEW    COMER. 

"  Confidence  then  bore  thee  on ;  secure  either  to  meet  no  danger  or  to  find 
.natter  of  glorious  trial." — Milton. 

The  new  comer  was  Chester  Boynton,  and  he  sprang 
forward  with  pallid  face,  at  the  same  time  Mrs.  Boynton 
stood  erect,  summoning  all  her  strength  for  the  effort. 


12  ffli:  NEW  coMES. 

"  Thank  heaven !"  the  husband  exclaimed,  throwing  a 
protecting  arm  about  her  tottering  figure. 

For  a  minute  they  stood  mutely  gazing  at  each  other. 

A  small  tree  within  a  dozen  paces  of  where  they  were 
standing  had  been  riven  by  the  electric  bolt,  and  it 
seemed  as  though  their  lives  had  been  spared  by  a  special 
providence. 

Philip  Temple  was  the  first  to  break  the  silence. 

"  That  was  very  close,"  he  exclaimed,  in  a  voice  whose 
calmness  Tracy  admired  even  then.  And  he  added,  in  a 
solicitous  tone: 

"  I  feared  that  you  had  received  a  shock,  Mrs.  Boyn- 
ton.  You  were  dreadfully  white — and  I  guess  I  was 
too." 

"  She  is  peculiarly  sensitive  to  a  fright  of  this  kind," 
Mr.  Boynton  gravely  replied.  His  speech  and  ex- 
pressions were  as  unlike  the  lightness,  grace  and  frank 
sincerity  of  Temple's  as  could  be  imagined. 

Which  was  the  better  man  it  would  be  hard  to  judge, 
even  for  a  mutual  friend.  Yet  they  were  in  no  way 
alike. 

The  spell  was  broken,  and  Mrs.  Boynton's  self-posses- 
sion returned.  Her  escape  seemed  to  lend  her  an  in- 
creased sense  of  security. 

"  I  am  fated  to  be  scared  by  lightning "  she  said, 
with  a  faint  smile.  And  then,  as  though  suddenly  recol- 
lecting she  added: 

"  I  beg  pardon,  Chester.  I  will  present  to  you  an  old 
acquaintance  and  friend,  Mr.  Temple — my  husband, 
whom  you  so  desired  to  meet,  Philip." 

The  gentlemen  shook  hands.  Philip's  hand-clasp  was 
warm  and  friendly;  that  of  Mr.  Boynton  was  more  formal. 
Their  glances  met  also,  and  what  was  to  prove  a  fateful 
acquaintance  began. 

The  rest  of  the  distance  to  the  house  was  soon  accom- 
plished, and  when  they  reached  their  destination  the 
storm  had  nearly  ceased. 

A  little  later  the  trio  were  seated  upon  the  hotel  ver- 


THE    NEW    COMEB.  13 

anda,  which  went  entirely  around  the  building.  There 
were  other  guests  there  also,  but  they  were  gathered 
in  groups,  and  did  not  intrude  upon  each  other. 

"A  charming  place  for  the  summer  months,  isn't  it?" 
Philip  Temple  remarked.  He  sat  facing  Mrs.  Boynton, 
and  trie  latter  watched  the  play  of  light  and  shadow  upon 
his  handsome  features  with  curious  interest. 

"  Rather  pleasant,"  admitted  Boynton,  less  enthusi- 
astically. 

"  Chester  never  found  any  spot  upon  this  earth  quite 
charming,"  declared  Tracy. 

"Is  that  so?"  and  Temple  laughed,  adding:  "How 
queer,  when  I'm  charmed  wherever  I  go !  There's  such 
an  abundance  of  beauty  everywhere;  and  I  am  perpetu- 
ally impressed  with  the  novelty  of  living.  There's  some- 
thing new,  pleasant  or  unpleasant,  happens  every  day. 
I've  encountered  both  to-day,  though  the  unpleasant, 
coming  in  a  flash  of  lightning,  was  rather  trancient,  I 
hope  the  pleasure  will  be  more  lasting." 

He  glanced  toward  Tracy  as  he  spoke,  and  the  bright 
smile  which  he  saw  there  recalled  with  vividness  the  old 
days  when  he  had  lived,  as  it  were,  upon  Tracy  Sher- 
man's approval. 

"  This  is  a  pleasant  place  enough,  to  be  sure,"  Boyn- 
ton admitted,  his  gaze  fixed  upon  the,  rugged  face  of 
the  mountain. 

"  It  is  quiet,  and  gives  one  an  opportunity  to  think. 
And  there  are  queer  people  here  at  the  hotel  whom  I  like 
to  study.  Yonder  comes  one  of  them  now — a  regular 
budget  of  eccentricities." 

"And  as  ugly  as  a  bear,  you  might  add,"  supplemented 
the  young  wife,  with  a  pretty,  deprecatory  gesture. 

The  object  of  Boynton's  remark  was  coming  toward 
them,  from  a  lonely  seat  upon  the  lawn,  where  he  had 
been  dozing  under  the  full  glare  of  the  afternoon  sun. 
He  was  a  thin,  pale  man,  with  a  monstrous  black  mous- 
tache and  heavy  brows  that  lent  his  countenance  a  fierce 
expression.  He  had  a  furtive  way  of  looking  at  people 


14  THE    NEW    COMEK. 

which  was  sufficient  to  make  a  nervous  person  afraid 
of  him.  He  came  directly  to  where  they  were  sitting. 
and  JBoynton  presented  Philip  Temple  in  a  formal  way. 

The  eccentric  man  was  known  simply  as  Mr.  Brock. 

"  Cool  after  the  shower — eh?"  he  observed,  furtively 
glancing  from  the  face  of  Mrs.  Boynton  to  that  of  the 
young  man. 

"  Cool,  did  you  say?"  Philip  returned,  in  surprise  It 
had  seemed  to  him  decidedly  sultry  with  the  glaring  sun- 
shine and  humid  atmosphere. 

"  Yes,  cool,"  Mr.  Brock  insisted,  knitting  his  heavy 
brows. 

It  seemed  to  iritate  him  to  have  his  assertion  ques- 
tioned. 

"  Not  quite  so  warm  as  before,"  Philip  courteously  ad- 
mitted. 

Mr.  Brock,  he  noticed,  wore  rather  heavy  clothes,  and 
he  had  a  habit  of  shrugging  his  shoulders  frequently,  as 
though  he  was  suffering  from  a  chill. 

"  I  didn't  know  as  it  had  been  too  warm,"  he  said,  in 
his  quick,  impatient  manner,  adding:  "It's  curious  that 
everybody  complains  of  the  heat  the  first  comfortable  day 
we  have  in  summer.  It's  curious,  too,  that  so  many  go 
to  the  mountains  to  keep  cool.  I  go  there  to  keep  warm. 
If  the  sun  would  only  shine  all  the  time,  and  there  was 
no  shade,  I  should  succeed  pretty  well.  But  it's  chilly 
now — and  damp!" 

The  eccentric  man  fixed  his  keen  eyes  upon  the  face  of 
Mr.  Temple  as  though  he  expected  a  contradiction.  But 
none  was  forthcoming,  although  Philip  could  not  repress 
a  smile. 

"  I  suppose  you've  come  to  remind  me  of  our  accus- 
tomed stroll,  Mr.  Brock?"  Boynton  questioned. 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  the  other  hastened  to  say,  adding, 
"  your  friend  won't  mind,  I'll  warrant.  Nor  your  wife, 
either.  They  can  spare  you  and  I,  better'n  not!" 

This  observation  was  suplemented  by  a  low  chuckle, 


THE    NEW    COMEB.  15 

which  was  the  nearest  approach  to  a  laugh  ever  indulged 
by  Mr.  Brock. 

An  indignant  flush  leaped  into  the  cheeks  of  Mrs. 
Boynton,  and  a  sharp  retort  trembled  upon  her  lips.  But 
the  impulse  was  controled,  partly  because  her  resentment, 
at  that  moment  was  transferred  from  Mr.  Brock  to  her 
husband. 

"They  will  excuse  us,  to  be  sure,"  Boynton  declared, 
rising  to  his  feet  and  crossing  the  veranda. 

Had  he  given  his  wife  so  much  as  a  passing  glance, 
the  intense  expression  of  her  face  woulcl  have  detained 
him.  But  he  did  not.  He  knew  that  she  disliked  Brock, 
and  so  he  thought  it  rather  a  kindness  to  her  than  otherwise 
to  lead  the  crotchety  individual  away,  humoring  his  whim 
at  the  same  time. 

And  so  they  walked  away  together,  quickly  disappear- 
ing from  view. 

Philip  Temple,  keenly  observant,  saw  the.  look  upon 
the  young  wife's  face.  He  had  noticed  other  expressions 
also,  during  the  brief  time  which  he  had  passed  with 
them,  which  filled  his  mind  with  vague,  unwelcome  con- 
jectures. 

It  seemed  to  him  that  Chester  Boynton  and  his  young 
wife  were  not  upon  the  best  of  terms  with  each  other. 
There  was  certainly  a  marked  contrast  in  their  tempera- 
ments. Was  it  possible  that  Tracy  was  not  quite  happy? 

Philip  vanished  the  question  the  moment  it  flashed 
upon  his  brain.  He  had  no  right  to  ask  it,  even  within 
himself.  All  married  people  have  their  little  differences ; 
otherwise  their  existence  would  be  a  paradise.  Thus  he 
reflected ;  and  he  again  ventured  to  meet  the  gaze  of  Mrs. 
Boynton. 

"I  don't  see  how  Chester  can  endure  that  man's 
society !  "  she  exclaimed,  with  an  involuntary  shudder. 

"  Enjoys  his  oddities,  I  suppose,"  Philip  returned. 

"  Partly  that."  She  hesitated,  gazing  after  the  retreat- 
ing figures,  and  then  went  on  impetuously: 

"He  is  studying   his  character,  I  expect — Chester 


16  THE    SEW  COMER. 

studies  everybody,  and  everything.  He  studies  me,  and 
he  will  study  you,  and  then  he  will  analyze  us,  as  though 
we  were  a  doubtful  drug  and  he  a  chemist.  That  Brock 
he  considers  as  a  type  of  character.  To  me  he  is  a  snake 
—always  cold,  ana  stealthy,  and  delighting  to  sun  him- 
self upon  a  rock  at  noonday.  I'm  afraid  of  him!" 

Tracy  Boynton's  tones  were  very  low;  but  the  impet- 
uousness  of  her  utterance  betrayed  pentup  emotions 
which  she  dared  not  wholly  confers.  It  almost  seemed 
to  her  companion  that  she  was  about  to  confide  her  dis- 
appointment to  him — if  she  were  disappointed.  He 
experienced  in  that  moment  a  wild  wish  that  she  would 
do  so.  It  would  be  so  pleasant  to  repay  her  confidence 
with  chivalrous  advice.  For  he  would  act  a  chivalrous 
part,  and  if  aught  were  causing  husband  and  wife  to  drift 
asunder,  he  would  exercise  all  his  influence  to  bring  them 
together  again.  It  did  not  even  occur  to  Philip  Temple 
that  for  him  to  act  as  a  mediator  between  these  two  were 
perilous  to  them  all. 

"  Your  husband  seems  like  a  thoughtful  man,"  Philip 
observed,  after  an  embarrassing  period  of  silence. 

"He  thinks  too  much  upon  great  things,"  was  the 
quick  reply. 

Tracy  laughed  nervously  and  added: 

"  Oh,  he  is  a  great  way  above  me  in  thought  and  aspi- 
ration. It  is  a  wonder  that  he  can  care  for  me — and  yet 
he  does ! " 

This  last  was  added,  as  though  to  counteract  any  con- 
trary impression  which  her  words  might  have  made. 

"  It  can't  be  that  he  looks  down  upon  you?"  Philip 
questioned,  with  an  indignant  flash. 

The  laughing  response  to  his  earnestness  brought  a 
flush  of  embarrassment  to  his  cheeks. 

"Oh,  no.     We  look  up  to  each  other! "  was  the  reply. 

From  that  their  conversation  drifted  into  lighter  chan- 
nels. Tracy  could  not  help  but  realize  that  they  had  a 
great  deal  in  common  to  talk  about.  She  was  surprised, 
and  pleased,  to  find  that  he  was  cultivating  an  artistic 


HIS  ECCENTRIC   FRIEND.  17 

taste.  She  was  doing  the  same.  They  entered  upon  a 
discussion  of  the  modern  landscape  painters.  Philip  had 
met  Thomas  Hill,  whose  interpretations  of  wild  western 
and  mountain  scenery  are  so  famous. 

"  He  is  an  eccentric  but  genial,  whole-souled  fellow," 
the  young  man  declared,  in  a  glow  of  enthusiasm.  "  I 
have  his  photograph  over  at  the  cottage.  Didn't  I  tell 
you?  I'm  stopping  with  a  rugged  young  farmer  over 
yonder — not  more  than  a  mile,  I  think.  And  this  re? 
minds  me — they'll  be  waiting  supper  for  me." 

Philip  sprang  to  his  feet,  glancing  at  his  watch.  Two 
hours  had  passed;  the  sun  had  disappeared  behind  the 
trees;  a  silvery  crescent  was  brightening  through  the 
somber  purple  of  the  western  sky. 

They  were  alone  upon  the  veranda;  they  had  not  no- 
ticed that  the  other  guests  had  entered  the  house. 


CHAPTER  III. 

HIS  ECCENTRIC  FRIEND. 

"  Yes,  it  is  haunted,  this  quiet  scene, 
Fair  as  it  looks,  and  all  softly  green. 

—Mrs.  Hemans. 

Mrs.  Boynton  rose  also,  a  little  startled  to  find  that 
they  were  entirely  alone. 

"They  must  have  all  stolen  away  upon  tip-toe,  or  we 
should  have  heard  them,"  she  said,  with  a  light  laugh. 

She  glanced  upward  toward  the  towering  face  of  the 
mountain,  with  its  alternating  patches  of  light  and 
shadow.  Then  her  gaze  was  turned  upon  the  path  which 
her  husband  and  his  strange  companion  had  taken. 

"Mr.  Boynton  must  find  the  society  of  his  eccentric 
friend  extremely  fascinating,"  Temple  remarked,  noting 
the  slight  shadow  of  displeasure  which  had  suddenly 
fallen  upon  her  face. 

"  I  wish  he  would  return,"  she  replied, 


18  HIS   ECCENTRIC   FRIEND. 

"  Are  they  accustomed  to  indulging  in  such  protracted 
strolls?" 

"  They  have  been  away  together  several  times.  They 
have  never  remained  so  long  as  this,  however.  It  is 
very  strange  that  Chester  can  tind  the  society  of  that 
cold,  snaky  Mr.  Brock  so  agreeable.  1  wish  he  would 
go  away.  I  feel  a  premonition  sometimes  that  he  is  to 
prove  my  evil  genious.  He  gives  me  the  shivers  every 
time  I  look  at  him.  Indeed,  I  can  tell  when  he  is  near, 
although  I  do  not  see  him — he  taints  the  very  air! " 

Philip  moved  toward  the  steps  leading  to  the  path. 
At  the  rail  he  paused  and  looked  back. 

"  Good  night,"  he  said. 

Tracy  advanced  quickly  and  gave  him  her  hand. 

"It  is  n't  good  by?"  she  questioned. 

"I  hope  not.  I  may  remain  at  the  cottage  for  a 
month — perhaps  not  so  long.  I  shall  see  you  often  while 
I  stay.  I  hope  to  grow  better  acquainted  with  Mr. 
Boynton.  But  he  studies  everybody  so  closely,  according 
to  you,  that  I  shall  be  a  trifle  afraid  of  him." 

"  He  won't  harm  you — he  will  like  you,  I  know,"  she 
replied,  somewhat  eagerly,  as  though  she  were  voicing  a 
wish  rather  than  a  prediction. 

"  We  shall  become  fast  friends,  without  doubt."  In 
the  interval  of  silence  that  ensued  a  whippoorwill,  which 
had  alighted  upon  a  rock  close  by,  burst  forth  in  its  clear, 
prophetic  song. 

The  weird  melody  added  to  the  witchery  of  the  hour 
and  scene,  and  Philip  Temple  lingered,  listening,  absorbed 
in  a  sense  of  dreamy  contentment,  forgetful  alike  of  pres- 
ent and  future. 

The  cessation  of  the  song  broke  the  spell. 

"  It  is  growing  cool  and  damp,"  he  quickly  exclaimed, 
in  sudden  solicitude,  for  his  companion  shivered  at  the 
moment. 

"  I  have  been  thoughtless  in  keeping  you  here  so  long. 
I'll  not  detain  you  another  moment." 

He  ran  down  the  steps  and  hastened  briskly  away.    At 


HIS  ECCENTRIC   FKIEND.  19 

a  turn  of  the  path  he  glanced  backward.  The  moon  was 
obscured  for  the  moment  by  a  small  cloud,  and  the  hotel 
looked  like  a"  huge,  shapeless  monster  in  the  gloom.  It 
seemed  to  him  that  Tracy  Boynton  was  standing  where 
he  had  left  her. 

"Was  she  looking  after  him  ?  No,  it  was  more  likely 
that  she  was  looking  for  the  return  of  her  husband. 

Philip  Temple  faced  resolutely  about  and  walked  rap- 
idly along  the  lonely  path,  striving  to  break  the  spell 
which  was  upon  him  by*  whistling  a  hornpipe. 

The  path  led  in  a  zigzag  course  along  the  lower  slopes 
of  the  mountain's  base.  There  were  trees  upon  either 
side  ;  there  were  also  occasional  rocks,  hugh  and  rugged. 
Beyond  one  of  these  Philip  caught  the  glimmer  of  a 
light,  and  instantly  he  halted,  surprised  and  wondering  at 
the  discovery. 

The  light  twinkled  through  the  swaying  twigs  of  a 
clump  or  small  birches  which  grew  close  to  the  rock. 

Philip  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  started  toward 
the  light.  The  way  was  rough,  and  almost  impassable 
with  dense  undergrowth  and  wild  clamatis.  There  were 
raspberry  briers  growing  thickly  from  rocky  clefts,  and 
these  clung  tenaciously  to  the  young  man's  garments. 
Still  the  light,  and  his  own  curiosity,  beckoned  him  on, 
and  he  pushed  forward  persistently.  He  succeeded  in 
getting  through  the  thickest  of  the  shrubbery,  and  looked 
again  for  the  light. 

But  it  had  disappeared. 

"A  queer  go,  any  how!"  he  impatiently  exclaimed,  irri- 
tated to  find  that  his  persistence  had  been  in  vain. 

He  halted  and  glanced  about  him.  It  was  a  lovely 
scene.  There  were  trees,  rocks  and  undergrowth  upon 
every  side.  In  the  gloom  every  object  appeared  vague  in 
outline,  unreal  in  substance. 

"Halloa!"  he  shouted — or  rather  uttered,  for  the  call 
could  not  have  been  heard  a  dozen  rods  away. 

There  was  no  response,  a  soft  breeze  rustled  the  shrub- 
bery in  a  stealthy  way.  The  distant  cry  of  a  whippoor- 


20  HIS  ECCENTRIC   FRIEND. 

will  came  to  his  ears,  and  he  wondered  if  it  was  the  same 
to  which  he  and  Mrs.  Boynton  had  listened  a  short  time 
before. 

"Bah! — why  do  I  loiter  here?"  he  muttered,  interrupt- 
ing his  own  fancies. 

He  hastened  to  work  his  way  back  to  the  path.  When 
he  had  reached  the  latter  he  glanced  back,  and  with  a 
thrill,  saw  again  that  twinkling  light  which  he  had  at- 
tempted to  reach ! 

It  was  in  the  same  spot  as  when  it  first  caught  his  eye. 
It  seemed  as  though  he  had  to  pass  through  the  interven- 
ing bushes  and  shrubbery  to  reach  it. 

"  I  believed  this  spot  is  bewitched !"  he  exclaimed.  For 
an  instant  his  nerves  thrilled  with  the  conviction  that  he 
had  chanced  upon  one  of  those  weird  occurrences  of 
which  superstitious  humanity  is  forever  citing  instances, 
while  they  pretend  a  disbelief  in  the  supernatural. 

Philip  Temple  hesitated  between  the  impulse  to  inves- 
tigate the  curious  incident,  and  the  wish  to  reach  his  des- 
tination. 

"  Some  one  is  encamping  upon  the  mountain-side,  and 
is  out  with  a  lantern,"  ne  said  to  himself.  Still  the  light 
twinkled  before  his  vision  in  a  tantalizing  way,  and  half 
against  his  inclination  he  found  himself  once  more  push- 
ing his  way  through  the  bushes  and  vines.  He  reached 
the  opening,  and  again  looked  for  the  light.  With  the 
same  result  as  before! — tor  it  had  disappeared.  Then  he 
began  a  careful  exploration  of  the  vicinity.  He  peered 
through  thickets,  behind  rocks.  He  stepped  into  unseen 
pitfalls,  and  at  last  fell  upon  rocks  and  was  nearly  stun- 
ned. 

Regaining  iris  feet,  he  returned  to  the  path  warm,  ex- 
cited, half-angry  with  himself,  and  the  tantilizing  mys- 
tery. And  there,  to  add  to  his  irritation  he  saw  again 
that  twinkling  light,  in  the  same  spot,  and  as  bright  as  at 
first. 

"  I  think  my  brain  is  a  little  out  of  trim,"  he  declared, 


HIS  EOOEKTfclO  FRIEND.  21 

impatiently  turning  his  back  upon  the  glimmering  mys- 
tery. 

He  quickly  left  the  spot  behind,  and  five  minutes  later 
came  in  sight  of  a  light  which  did  not  vanish  nor  retreat 
as  he  approached. 

The  cottage  was  small,  plain,  yet  picturesque,  sur- 
rounded as  it  was  by  the  rugged  scenery  of  the  mountain. 

In  the  doorway  a  short,  stout  man  was  standing,  smok- 
ing a  pipe.  He  stepped  outside  to  make  way  for  his 
guest  as  the  latter  came  up. 

"  Guess  you've  lost  your  supper,  Mr.  Temple,"  said 
the  young  farmer,  taking  the  pipe  from  his  lips  and  hold- 
ing it  in  a  half  deferential  way. 

"Have  I?  I'm  glad  of  it,  on  the  whole — I  wasn't 
hungry,"  Temple  returned. 

"I  guess  Jenny  '11  fix  up  somethin'  for  you,  if  you'll 
go  in.  We  waited  a  spell,  and  then  I  told  her  we  might 
as  well  eat,  'cause  you'd  come  when  you  got  ready.  And 
so  we  had  our  supper."  The  man  drew  two  or  three 
whiffs  at  his  pipe,  and  then  asked: 

"  Get  ketched  in  the  shower,  did  ye?" 

"  Yes — but  I  was  under  a  rock  through  the  worst  of  it, 
and  didn't  get  very  wet,"  Philip  explained. 

There  was  a  brief  interval  of  silence.  Philip  Temple 
was  haunted  by  the  mysterious  occurrence  which  he  had 
so  fruitlessly  tried  to  investigate.  "  I'd  like  to  ask  you  a 
question,  Mr.  "Webb,"  he  abruptly  declared. 

The  young  farmer  looked  curiously  at  the  speaker  from 
under  his  brows,  again  holding  his  pipe  betwixt  his  fin- 
gers. 

"What  about?"  he  questioned. 

"Another  singular  adventure  which  I  had  to-night.  I 
came  from  the  summer  hotel  about  a  mile  from  here. 
There's  a  path  all  the  way  and  there  are  plenty  of  rocks 
and  bushes." 

"  I've  been  over  the  path  times  enough  to  know  all 
'bout  it,"  Webb  interpolated  as  the  other  paused. 

Philip  went  on  to  detail  his  adventure.    The  young 


22  TELL  ME  !     SHE   CSIED. 

farmer  listened  without  comment,  puffing  vigorously  at 
his  pipe  the  while. 

"What  do  you  think  of  it?"  Temple  asked,  curiously 
impressed  by  the  other's  silence. 

"Just  what  I  expected — I've  seen  it  myself!  "  returned 
Webb,  shrugging  nis  broad  sholders.  His  tone  was  a 
trifle  awed,  and  he  went  on  smoking,  as  though  to  dispel 
the  haunting  memory  of  a  weird  experience. 


CHAPTER  IY. 

TELL  ME!  SHE  CRIED. 

"More  strange  than  true.  I  never  may  believe 
These  antic  fables  nor  these  fairy  toys." 

Midsummer  Night's  Dream. 

Philip  Temple  was  not  deceived  in  the  impression 
that  Mrs.  Boynton  lingered  upon  the  hotel  veranda  after 
he  had  gone. 

She  leaned  upon  the  railing  and  watched  him  out  of 
sight.  Nor  did  she  go  in  when  he  had  disappeared,  al- 
though the  air  had  grown  decidedly  chilly,  and  she  wore 
no  wrap. 

Her  reflections  became  retrospective,  and  she  thought 
of  Philip  Temple  as  she  had  known  him  five  years  before". 
He  had  changed  but  little.  She  remembered  that  at  the 
time  of  her  rejection  of  his  suit  he  had  accepted  her 
decision  as  conditional  only. 

'"  I  think  I  have  spoken  too  hastily,"  he  had  said,  in  a 
kindly  way  which  had  done  more  to  increase  her  regard 
for  him  than  all  his  attentions  before. 

"  Unless  your  love  is  bestowed  elsewhere,"  he  went  on, 
"it  is  not  necessary  that  a  final  answer  be  given  now. 
There  is  time  enough,  and  I  can  wait.  We  will  continue 
as  friends ;  and  if  it  ever  comes  to  pass  that  your  life 
seems  incomplete  unlinked  with  mine,  then  your  present 
answer  will  be  the  same  as  unspoken.  I  have  your  hap- 


TELL   ME  !     SHE   CEIED.  23 

piness  at  heart,  Tracy,  even  more  than  m  j  own,  although 
to  give  you  up  wholly  would  be  the  deepest  disappoint- 
ment I  can  ever  know !" 

Those  were  Philip  Temple's  words,  and  they  made  a 
strong  impression  on  Tracy  Sherman's  mind.  In  a  vague 
sort  of  way  she  had  looked  forward  to  a  time  when,  in 
his  words,  "her  life  would  seem  incomplete  unlinked 
with  his."  But  soon  after  they  were  separated;  and  em- 
bryo love  is  too  often  killed  by  the  frosts  of  separation. 
During  the  next  two  years  a  fatality,  or  chance,  kept 
them  apart.  Tracy  went  abroad  with  her  parents;  and 
as  travelers  meet  in  foreign  lands,  she  met  Chester  Boyn- 
ton.  They  became  companions,  friends,  were  engaged, 
and  were  married  before  returning  to  American  shores. 

Leaning  over  the  rail  of  the  hotel  veranda,  with  the  in- 
fluence of  Philip  Temple's  presence  fresh  upon  her,  Mrs. 
Boynton  was  impressed  for  the  first  time  with  a  convic- 
tion that  her  marriage  without  a  formal  renunciation  of 
Philip's  regards  had  not  been  quite  fair  toward  him.  It 
almost  seemed  as  though  she  owed  him  a  plea  for  pardon 
even  now — and  yet,  she  realized  the  impropriety  of  offer- 
ing one.  Even  an  allusion  to  their  former  relations  were 
wrong — perilous. 

She  looked  out  upon  the  patches  of  light  and  shadow 
with  a  sudden  sense  of  possible  danger.  Of  what  had 
she  been  thinking?  Had  she  unconsciously  compared 
the  mental  characteristics  of  her  husband  with  those  of 
Philip  Temple?  And  had  the  former  suffered  by  the 
comparison  ? 

A  step  sounded  upon  the  veranda,  and  Mrs.  Boynton 
started,  uttered  a  low  cry.  She  saw  a  tall  figure  advanc- 
ing toward  her,  and  she  trembled  as  with  sudden  fright. 

"  You  will  take  cold  here,  Tracy.  Go  in  at  once,"  said 
Chester  Boynton  as  he  confronted  her.  His  tone  was 
stern,  his  command  almost  arbitrary. 

At  the  same  time,  as  she  looked  up  into  his  face,  she 
was  struck  by  its  expression.  She  had  never  seen  him 
look  like  that  before.  He  was  pale;  his  lips  were  drawn; 


24  TELL    ME  !      SHE 

a  new  light  blazed  in  his  eyes.  She  could  perceive  all 
this  even  in  the  semi-gloom,  and  she  was  impressed  with 
nameless  apprehension* 

"What  has  happened,,  Chester?"  she  breathlessly- 
exclaimed,  laying  a  hand  upon  his  arm. 

"  Nothing — why  do  you  ask?  "  he  returned. 

In  his  effort  to  suppress  the  evidence  of  his  agitation 
his  voice  sounded  husky.  The  vague  alarm  of  his  wife 
was  intensified. 

"  Tell  me !  "  she  cried.  And  then,  as  though  the  utter- 
ance of  the  name  was  repulsiv^  to  her,  she  added : 

"When  did  you  come  back?  And  where  is — is 
Brock?" 

"He  returned  before  sunset;  I  have  but  just  come," 
was  the  hasty  reply. 

"  Have  you  been  to  supper?"  he  added,  impatiently. 

"Why  don't  you  tell  me?  and  has  Mr.  Temple  gone?" 

"  He  went  a  few  minutes  ago.  We  waited  for  you, 
Chester.  I  began  to  be  alarmed  at  your  absence,"  she 
explained. 

"  You  need  never  have  fears  for  me  because  I  am  out 
of  your  sight  for  an  hour  or  two.  I  suppose  you  were 
afraid  Mr.  Brock  had  eaten  me  alive.  I  tell  you,  Tracy, 
you  would  not  dispise  that  man  if  you  knew  him.  He 
is  a  wonderful  man.  He  has  been  the  victim  of  great 
misfortunes;  yet,  in  spite  of  his  cold  exterior,  he  has  a 
warm  heart." 

The  young  wife  cast  a  hasty  glance  out  among  the 
shadows ;  a  shiver  convulsed  her  form. 

"  I  dare  say  yours  is  a  true  estimate  of  him,  Chester," 
she  said.  "  Yet  to  me  his  face,  his  motions,  his  voice, 
every  word  he  utters  is  strongly,  painfully  repellant.  He 
seems  to  me  like  a  serpent.  And  I  fear  that  you  will 
fall  under  the  spell  of  his  fatal  fascinations !  " 

"  Nonsense,  Tracy! " 

The  impatience  of  Mr.  Boynton's  tone  amounted 
almost  to  anger. 

"  You  must  not  yield  to  such  silly  fancies,"  he  con- 


TELL  ME  !     SHE  GREED.  25 

tinned.  "Yon  do  him  injustice;  you  doubt  my  judg- 
ment; you  indulge  a  romantic  folly.  Ours  is  real  life, 
not  romance.  We  shall  be  happy  and  unhappy,  like 
other  people.  But  it  is  not  in  the  power  of  any  'human 
serpent '  to  cast  an  evil  spell  upon  us.  These  are  not  the 
days  of  witchcraft,  and  you  must  not  allow  such  ideas  to 
gain  possession  of  your  mind.  It  isn't  sensible.  They 
will  d!o  you  harm." 

Boynton,  while  speaking,  had  led  her  into  the  house. 
Under  the  gaslight  the  appearance  of  his  agitation  was 
not  so  marked — else  it  had  subsided.  They  ate  supper 
together  in  silence.  Then  he  went  to  regale  himself  with 
a  cigar,  leaving  Tracy  with  the  other  ladies  u  pon  the 
front  veranda.  Here  all  was  life  and  brightness.  The 
flickering  lights,  the  hum  of  voices,  in  a  measure  dis- 
pelled the  sense  of  depression  which  had  possessed  the 
mind  of  Mrs.  Boynton.  From  within  floated  the  notes 
of  a  lively  air  which  someone  was  evoking  from  the  rich- 
toned  piano. 

Tracy,  standing  a  little  apart,  felt  two  soft,  warm 
hands  upon  her  cheeks,  and  a  silvery,  half-childish  voice 
sounded  in  her  ears. 

"  I've  found  yon  now,  and  I'll  keep  you,  too,"  said  the 
voice. 

"  You  shall  keep  me  until  bedtime,  Lou — I'll  promise 
not  to  run  away  from  you,"  Tracy  returned,  a  ring  of 
unfeigned  pleasure  in  her  tones. 

And  she  impulsively  kissed  the  pretty,  dimpled  cheeks 
so  near  her  own. 

For  Lou  Wentworth,  with  her  blue,  laughing  eyes, 
her  innocent,  vivacious  ways,  was  the  only  guest  at  the 
hotel  for  whose  exclusive  companionship  the  young  wife 
of  Chester  Boynton  really  cared. 

The  emanations  of  joyousness  which  seemed  ever  to 
surround  this  petite  being  was  to  Tracy  a  sort  of  anti- 
dote for  the  noisome,  chilling  presence  of  Mr.  Brock. 

"  I  was  afraid  that  handsome  stranger  had  carried  you 


26  TELL  ME  !    SHE  CRIED. 

away  from  us,"  exclaimed  the  girl,  linking  her  arm  with- 
in that  of  her  companion. 

"  So  you  were  watching  us,  you  sly  rogue  ? "  Mrs. 
Boynton  questioned.  She  began  to  experience  a  strange 
elation  of  spirits,  in  marked  contrast  with  the  recent 
vague  forebodings  which  she  had  entertained. 

"  I  watched  him — not  you,"  Miss  "Wentworth  replied, 
as  they  paused  in  their  walk  at  a  point  remote  from  the 
other  guests. 

"  He  is  a  handsome  fellow,  isn't  he  ?  Almost  as  princely 
looking  as  my — as  Roy  Blanchard! " 

Even  the  shadow  in  which  they  were  standing  did  not 
hide  the  deepening  pink  upon  the  shy  face  of  the  speaker. 

"  Your  Roy,  Lou?    Has  he  really " 

Lou's  soft  hand  stopped  Tracy's  utterances  just  there. 

"  Not  yet — it  isn't  sure! "  the  girl  returned,  in  a  quick, 
breathless  way.  Her  bright  face  had  taken  on  a  serious, 
even  anxious  expression,  and  she  looked  straight  into  the 
eyes  of  her  companion,  as  she  went  on: 

""We  were  together  a  long  while  to-day,  and  he  was  as 
kind  as — as  I  could  wish.  But  we're  not  engaged.  He 
has  said  nothing  about  that;  nothing  direct  and  plain,  I 
mean.  And  to-night  he  is  with  Alma  Buston,  I  think. 
So  I  feel  sure  and  happy  one  moment,  and  in  doubt  and 
misery  the  next !"  The  girl's  soft  tones  faltered;  tears 
dimmed  the  azure  of  her  eyes. 

"  My  darling!  it  is  cruel  for  you  to  be  in  such  painful 
doubt,"  Mrs.  Boynton  returned,  tenderly  kissing  the  face 
which  but  a  moment  before  was  dimpled  with  smiles. 

"  If  there  was  only  some  way  to  find  out  so  that  all 
your  doubts  might  be  dispelled,"  Tracy  went  on,  her  wo- 
man's heart  full  of  sympaty  for  the  gentle,  loving  being 
by  her  side. 

"  If  I  only  could,"  Lou  echoed.  "  If  you  were  only  a 
sorceress,  and  could  read  my  destiny  in  a  tea-cup,  or  in 
the  lines  of  my  hand.  Do  you  really  believe  there  is 
anything  in  fortune-telling,  Mrs.  Boynton?  Do  you  be- 


TELL  ME!     SHE  CE1ED.  27 

lieve  all  the  stories  of  divination  coming  true,  which  we 
bear,  are  false?    Aren't  they  ever  true? 

The  blue  eyes  were  opened  wide  with  earnestness  as 
she  eagerly  asked  these  questions,  upon  which  many  a 
maiden  in  love  ponders  in  vain. 

"  They  may  come  true  sometimes — by  chance,"  was  the 
slow  response. 

"  I  suppose  it  is  all  very  silly.  And  yet  I  would  like 
to  try  just  one  thing,  just  for  sport.  No  one  but  you  is 
to  know  of  it.  And  no  harm  will  be  done — only  a  little 
fun.  Will  you?" 

The  childish  eagerness  of  the  girl  caused  Mrs.  Boynton 
to  laugh  softly. 

"  What  do  you  wish  me  to  do  ?  Turn  astrologer  and 
read  your  horoscope  ? "  she  asked. 

"  No — something  easier  than  that.  That  has  to  be  done 
at  the  moment  of  one's  birth,  I  believe,  so  it  is  too  late  to 
foretell  my  history  in  that  way." 

She  spoke  with  unrelaxed  seriousness.  There  was  an 
interval  of  silence,  in  which  the  twain  gazed  forth  upon 
the  moonlit  landscape,  with  the  lengthening  shadows 
creeping  up  the  valley. 

"  There  is  a  magic  spring  yonder,  just  beyond  that  big 
rock  which  looks  like  a  crouching  elephant,"  Lou  de- 
clared, lowering  her  voice  to  a  whisper,  and  indicating  the 
spot  with  one  outstretched  hand. 

"  I  have  heard  it  spoken  of,"  replied  her  companion, 
adding  with  a  smile: 

"  And  you  wish  to  go  thither  and  try  your  fate  by 
bending  over  the  spring  to  drink,  in  the  hope  of  seeing 
the  face  of  Roy  Blanchard  mirrored  there,  as  though  he 
were  looking  over  your  shoulder!  you  silly,  loving  child!" 

"  What  will  be  the  harm  ?  There  is  no  danger,  it  is  so 
near  the  house.  And  beside,  you  will  be  near  me,  only 
you  must  stand  upon  this  side  of  the  rock.  Of  course  I 
shall  see  nothing  only  my  own  face,  and  that  will  look  so 
foolish  that  1  shall  never  wish  to  try  my  fate  in  that  way 


&8  TELL   ME!      SHE   CRIED. 

again.     "Will  you  go  with,  me?  now,  before  the  moon  goes 

J  Oil  "  °  & 

down?" 

"  Yes,  I'll  humor  you.  It  is  a.  simpler  spell  than  that 
which  was  required  to  conjure  the  White  Lady  of  Avenel 
before  the  vision  of  Halbert  Glendinning,  in  Scott's  novel 
of  'The  Monestery.'  Come,  before  we  are  observed." 

They  descended  the  steps  nearest  them,  and  hastened 
toward  the  rock  which  Lou  had  designated. 

The  distance  was  so  short  that,  when  they  stood  beside 
the  huge  rock,  they  could  hear  the  voices  and  piano  at  the 
hotel. 

Yet  Lou  clung  to  the  hand  of  her  companion,  pale  and 
trembling. 

"  I'm  afraid  to  try  it,  now,"  she  exclaimed,  in  a  whis- 
per. 

"  I  expected  you  would  be,"  Tracy  returned.  Although 
naturally  romantic  and  imaginative  herself,  Mrs.  Boynton 
was  not  prone  to  indulge  groundless  fears. 

"  I  wish  you  would  try  first,  Mrs.  Boynton,"  said  her 
companion. 

"  I  ?     You  forget  that  I  have  a  husband  already." 

"That  doesn't  matter — it's  only  a  foolish  trick,  you 
know,  and  it  would  be  nice  if  you  should  see  the  face  of 
Mr.  Boynton  mirrored  in  the  spring.  Do  try,  and  then 
1  won't  be  afraid.  I  will  stand  here,  where  I  can  almost 
see  you." 

Tracy  hesitated  only  in  her  reluctance  to  indulge  in 
such  folly.  At  twenty-four,  and  with  a  husband,  it  all 
seemed  very  ridiculous.  Yet  she  could  not  resist  the 
earnest,  childish  pleading  of  her  young  friend. 

"  I  will  drink  from  the  spring — to  please  you.  But  if 
Chester  were  really  there  to  look  over  my  shoulder  he 
would  scold  me  roundly,  He  despises  such  folly." 

She  unclasped  the  clinging  lingers  of  Lou,  and  went 
boldly  around  the  rock. 

The  girl  stood,  breathless,  half -expectant.  The  experi- 
ment seemed  fraught  with  fateful  significance  to  her 
impressionable  nature. 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  LIGHT.  29 

Half-credulous  though  she  was,  however,  she  was 
thrilled  with  fear  when  Tracy  Boynton  darted  around  the 
rock  with  a  low,  horrified  cry,  and  sank  at  her  feet  in  a 
swoon! 


CHAPTEK  Y. 

THE   MYSTERIOUS   LIGHT. 

"  'Tis  night  when  meditation  bids  us  feel 
We  once  have  loved,  though  love  is  at  an  end." 

—Chllde  Harold. 

"  You've  seen  the  light,  as  I've  described,  did  you 
say  ? "  Philip  Temple  asked,  as  the  young  farmer  smoked 
on  in  silence. 

"Yes.  Two  or  three  times.  Tother  night  was  the 
last." 

Jason  Webb  proceeded  to  knock  the  ashes  from  his 
pipe,  and  then  thrust  the  latter  into  the  pocket  of  his 
blouse. 

He  then  slowly  faced  his  guest,  and  Temple  perceived 
that  his  countehance  wore  a  look  of  irritation. 

"  I  hate  a  mystery  woi  se'n  pizen  !  "  he  exclaimed,  with 
a  vehement  shake  of  the  head. 

"  So  you  count  that  light  which  I  saw  to-night  as  a 
mystery,  do  you  ? "  Temple  questioned,  his  interest  grow- 
ing keen. 

"  Course  it  is.  Anything  that  nobody  can  explain  is 
mysterious,  isn't  it  ?  And  what's  mysterious  is  a  mys- 
tery, according  to  my  reckoning.  You  tried  to  solve  it 
it  to-night,  didn't  you  ?  " 

"  I  made  a  slight  effort,  yes.  But  being  unaccustomed 
to  the  lay  of  the  land  I  found  I  was  in  danger  of  breaking 
my  neck,  and  so  gave  it  up.  I  dare  say  I  would  have 
solved  the  puzzle  if  I'd  persisted." 

"  Mebbe  you  would — I  won't  say.  But  you  didn't 
persist  quite  long  enough,  same  as  I  didn't,  and  same  as 
more'n  a  dozen  smart  chaps  hasn't.  Some  of  'em  smart 
as  you  or  I,  Mr,  Temple," 


30  THE  MYSTERIOUS  LIGHT. 

"Webb's  good-natured  laugh  took  the  possible  sting 
from  his  sarcasm.  It  was  plain  that  he  was  a  clear- 
headed fellow  with  plenty  of  practical  common-sense. 
Nor  was  he  likely  to  become  .frightened  at  his  own 
shadow. 

"  So  I've  struck  upon  one  of  the  numerous  ghost-epi- 
sodes which  are  floating  about  in  all  rural  districts,"  said 
Temple,  half-musingly. 

"  Call  it  what  you're  mind  ter,  it's  curi's,  and  has  puz- 
zled a  good  many  people." 

"  When  was  the  phenomenon  first  noticed  ?  "  Philip 
asked. 

"  Most  two  years  ago.  Jenney,  my  wife,  seen  it  first, 
as  she  was  comin'  home  from  Jim  .Rice's  one  dark  evenin'. 
Jim  lives  a  mile  or  so  below  here,  and  there's  a  path 
branches  ofPn  this  one  leading  straight  there.  Jenny 
seen  the  light,  and  s'posed  'twas  me  come  to  meet  her 
with  a  lantern.  She  spoke  my  name,  and  not  getting 
any  answer,  took  a  notion  to  investigate.  She's  a  spunky 
woman,  if  I  do  say  it,  and  not  scare't  at  her  own  shadow. 
But  when  the  light  vanished  and  then  appeared  ag'in, 
as  you  seen  it  to-night,  she  run  home  lively." 

"And  did  you  go  back  to  solve  the  mystery  that 
night  ? "  Philip  pursued,  strangely  interested  in  the 
simple,  yet  vivid  narrative  of  Jason  "Webb. 

"  No.  I  thought  like  'nough  somebody  did  it  for  a 
trick  to  frighten  her. 

"  And  who  saw  the  mysterious  light  next  ?  " 

"  Jim  Rice — and  he  stands  to  it  that  somebody  smashed 
his  lantern  for  him  when  he  tried  to  investigate.  But  I 
guess  he  got  scare't  and  broke  it  agin'  a  tree.  Anyhow, 
the  lantern  was  broke  to  flinders,  for  I  see  it  the  next 
morning." 

"And  were  you  the  next  one  to  encounter  the  puzzle?" 

"  Yes.  But  I  didn't  have  no  lantern,  and  you  know 
it's  a  pokerish  place  to  get  'round  in  in  the  dark.  I  was 
served  'bout  the  same  way  as  you  was  to-night. 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  LIGHT.  31 

"  I  suppose  you  have  examined  the  spot  in  the  day 
time?" 

"  Two  or  three  times." 

"And  with  what  result?" 

"  Didn't  find  anything.  Always  so,  you  know,  the 
same  as  'tis  when  you  explore  a  haunted  house  in  day 
time.  Nothing  ever  happens  that  isn't  natural  as  can  be 
by  daylight,  and  the  very  devil  will  be  to  pay  after  sun- 
down. I've  poked  into  such  things  considerable  at  one 
time  and  another.  Good  many  folks  get  scare't  at  what 
could  be  explained  easy  enough  if  they  kept  cool.  Still 
things  do  happen  that  nobody  finds  out  what  causes  'em, 
though  nobody  ever  believes  it  till  they've  seen  the  mani- 
festations themselves." 

"  I  suppose  you  have  seen  enough  to  convince  you  that 
there  are  really  ghosts  and  haunted  houses?" 

Jason  Webb  laughed  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"No,  I  don't  believe  in  'em,"  he  declared,  decisively. 

"And  yet,"  he  added,  "  I  know  that  there's  things  that 
I  can't  see  through,  and  that  you  can't,  and  that  nobody 
can  till  they  try  science  on  the  surface  of  things,  and  stop 
digging  so  deep  after  mysteries.  People' dig  half  through 
the  earth  to  find  what  lays  right  under  the  surface,  so  to 
speak.  It's  always  been  the  way.  If  I  knew  as  much 
about  science  as  you  educated  fellows  do,  I  would  go  up 
and  solve  that  mystery  within  twenty -four  hours." 

It  was  Philip's  turn  to  laugh — and  yet  he  perceived 
the  germs  of  good  sense  in  the  young  farmer's  homely 
remark. 

"  I  see  you  are  determined  to  lay  the  task  of  solving  this 
weird  mystery  upon  my  shoulders,  and  when  I  fail,  as  I 
probably  shall,  you'll  laugh  at  me,"  said  Philip. 

"  I  guess  you  won't  fail  if  you  really  try.  But  you 
wont'  try.  You  had  rather  laugh  at  the  whole  affair; 
call  it  a  freak  of  your  imagination  or  something  of  that 
sort,"  "Webb  seriously  returned. 

"  It  was  not  my  imagination,  I'm  sure  of  that."  Tem- 
ple said  this  decisively,  knitting  his  brows. 


32  THE  MYSTEBIOTJ8  LIGHT. 

Webb  made  no  response,  and  the  guest  fell  into  a 
revery.  The  moon  had  disappeared  beyond  the  trees, 
and  only  the  column  of  light  shining  forth  from  the 
open  doorway  of  the  cottage  relieved  the  darkness 
outside.  Even  this  was  presently  darkened  by  a  shadow 
human  in  contour.  Turning,  Temple  saw  that  Jenny, 
the  pretty  wife  of  the  young  farmer,  had  come  out  upon 
the  step. 

"  I  knew  you  had  come,  Mr.  Temple,"  she  said,  in  a 
voice  which  was  remarkably  sweet  and  mellow.  "I 
heard  you  talking  with  Jason,  and  have  improved  the 
time  to  make  seme  fresh  toast  for  you.  Please  don't  let 
it  get  cold." 

"You're  very  kind — more  so  than  I  deserve,  Mrs. 
Webb." 

The  unaffected  friendliness  of  this  couple  strongly 
impressed  the  young  man,  who  was  accustomed  to  the 
inhospitableness  of  city  boarding  places.  And  he  went 
in  and  did  justice  to  the  young  housewife's  cookery, 
although  it  had  not  occurred  to  him  before  that  he  was 
hungry.  A  little  later  he  retired  to  his  room,  which  was 
the  neatest  and  most  airy  the  cottage  contained.  Seating 
himself  by  an  open  window,  he  lit  a  cigar,  and  sent  blue 
rings  of  fragrant  smoke  floating  upward  to  the  ceiling 

He  lookea  out  of  the  window  upon  the  somber  land- 
scape. He  wondered  if  the  summer  hotel,  where  the 
Boyntons  were  stopping,  was  located  in  the  hollow 
beyond  the  tall,  blasted  pine  which  he  could  see  outlined 
against  the  gray  sky.  He  pictured  to  himself  the  face 
and  form  of  Tracy  Boynton  as  she  had  appeared  leaning 
over  the  railing,  as  he  had  left  her.  He  recalled  the 
touch  of  her  hand,  the  half-eager  tone  of  voice  as  she 
had  said,  "It  is  n't  good  by?"  as  he  was  about  to  go. 

"  Can  she  have  forgotten  what  I  said  to  her  five  years 
ago?"  he  asked  himself.  The  question  brought  back  the 
old  pain,  which  had  harassed  him  so  long  and  hopelessly 
in  the  months  and  years  which  were  past. 

"  She  cannot  have  forgotten,"  he  went  on,  uttering  the 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  LIGHT.  33 

words  half -aloud,  and  bending  toward  the  window  until 
the  cool,  damp  air  swept  his  brow.  "  Women  never  for- 
get such  things,  I  believe.  I  had  thought  that  she  would 
yet  alter  her  decision  in  the  course  of  time.  I  even  fancied 
that  the  transformation  had  begun  before  we  parted,  and 
— I  believe  so  yet,  and  it  was  by  a  perverse  freak  of 
fate  that  we  were  separated.  Why  was  it  so?  Was- it 
better  for  her? — or  for  me?  What  does  she  think  of  it 
now?  I  dare  not  think  of  it — I  must  not!  She  has 
made  her  choice,  and  no  doubt  it  is  a  good  one — for  him !" 

Philip  Temple  flung  away  his  cigar  and  walked  im- 
petuously across  the  room. 

Returning  he  paused  before  the  window,  his  lips  com- 
pressed, his  face  startlingly  pale. 

But  the  sudden  burst  of  passion,  the  sweep  of  painful 
memories,  of  unanswered  hopes,  quickly  passed. 

"This  will  not  do,"  he  exclaimed,  resolutely.  His 
manner  grew  calm  under  control,  and  he  added,  with  a 
smile:  "The  ordeal  of  a  first  meeting  after  our  long  sep- 
aration, and  the  intervening  changes,  could  not  have 
failed  to  be  a  painful  one  to  me,  and  embarrassing  to 
her.  The  renewal  of  our  friendships  under  the  new  con- 
ditions will  do  more  than  aught  else  to  cure  me  of  what 
is  now  but  folly.  She  shall  realize  now,  if  never  before, 
that  I  possess  manhood  and  the  power  of  self-control. 
If  it  were  otherwise  I  should  lose  her  respect.  I  have  a 
right  to  her  friendly  regard,  and  I  will  retain  it,  for  it  is 
too  sweet  a  possession  to  forfeit!" 

Philip  smoked  another  cigar,  scanned  the  newspaper 
which  he  found  upon  his  table  awaiting  perusal,  and 
then  went  to  bed. 

He  did  not  lie  awake;  he  was  too  physically  weary  for 
that.  But  his  dreams  abounded  in  vagaries.  He  pur- 
f  ued  illusive  lights,  falling  over  rocks  and  finding  him- 
self again  and  again  upon  the  brink  of  dark  abysses. 
Once  he  found  himself  bending  over  a  spring  of  water 
and  saw  the  face  of  Tracy  Boynton  reflected  in  its  limpid 
depths.  In  a  thrill  of  ecstacy  he  bent  to  kiss  the  mir- 
3 


34  ABE  YOU  ILL,  TRACY?     • 

rored  face ;  but  the  contact  of  his  own  with  the  cool 
water  awakened  him  with  a  start.  His  face  was  really 
cold  and  wet.  It  was  raining  outside,  and  a  strong  wind 
sent  the  drops  in  through  the  o^en  window  upon  the  bed, 
and  his  upturned  face. 


CHAPTER    YI. 

AEE   YOU   ILL,    TRACY? 

"Let  sage  or  cynic  prattle  as  he  will, 

These  hours,  and  only  these,  redeem  life's  years  of  ill." 

—Childe  Harold. 

Lou  "Wentworth,  in  an  agony  of  terror  and  distress, 
bent  over  the  unconscious  figure  of  her  companion.  At 
the  same  time  she  heard  a  footstep,  and  turning  with 
added  fear,  saw  Chester  Boynton  coming  toward  them. 

"  What  is  the  meaning  of  this?  Whathas  happened?" 
he  demanded  sternly,  bending  over  his  wife.  It  might 
have  been  his  voice,  or  the  dash  of  cool  drops  from  the 
overhanging  foliage  which  was  swayed  by  a  passing 
breeze,  that  recalled  her  to  consciousness,  for  her  eyes 
opened  at  the  instant,  and  she  looked  shrinkingly  up  into 
his  face. 

"With  his  help  she  rose  to  a  sitting  posture,  and  leaned 
against  him  as  he  crouched  at  her  side. 

"Are  you  ill,  Tracy?  Or  frightened?"  he  questioned, 
more  gently  than  before. 

"  Both,  I  think,"  she  answered  with  a  shiver.  She 
ent  an  appealing  glance  toward  Lou  as  she  spoke — a 
glance  that  said  plainly:  "I  will  explain  to  him;  you 
need  not." 

Aloud  she  added : 

"  I  did  not  quite  swoon.  But  I  was  too  weak  and 
faint  to  stand,  or  speak.  I  never  felt  like  that  before." 

Lou  turned  reluctantly  away,  her  own  heart  still  flut- 
tering with  excitement. 

"What — or  whom — did  she  see  at  the  Magic  Spring?" 
the  girl  asked  herself  as  she  hurried  through  the  wet 


ABE  YOU  ILL,  TRACY?  35 

grass  toward  the  house.  In  her  preoccupation  she  did 
not  see  the  person  coming  toward  her.  They  did  not 
see  each  other,  in  fact,  until  there  was  a  mild  collision. 

"  Oh ! "  she  screamed,  starting  hack.  Then  she  recog- 
nized the  smiling,  handsome  face  of  Roy  Blanchard,  and 
her  terror  was  changed  into  shy  delight. 

"  Why  don't  you  run  away,  as  you  started  to  do? "  he 
questioned,  witn  an  assumption  of  gravity. 

"  I  will,  if  you  wish  it!  "  and  she  turned  to  flee.  But 
he  caught  her  in  a  firm,  yet  gentle  grasp. 

"  Please  don't,  unless  you  wish,"  he  implored.  He 
drew  her  hand  within  his  arm,  and  led  her  past  the  house, 
and  out  upon  the  zigzag  road.  "  I  have  been  looking  for 
you,"  he  went  on,  his  tones  falling  like  richest  melody 
upon  her  ears. 

"  Looking  for  me — for  how  long? "  she  asked. 

"All  the  evening;  but  you  have  managed  to  keep  out 
of  my  sight  until  this  moment,  and  you  would  have  run 
away  from  me  now." 

She  sent  a  quick  resentful  glance  up  into  his  face. 

"  Is  it  rude  to  dispute  such  a  remark  as  yours  ? "  she 
flashed  back. 

"  Yes,  very  rude,  for  it  is  the  truth,"  he  returned  in  an 
earnest  tone.  Was  it  real?  She  could  not  see  his  face 
distinctly  enough  to  be  certain  whether  he  were  smiling 
or  grave. 

"  It  requiredtwo  of  you  to  search  for  me,"  she  said,  her 
voice  very  low,  to  hide  its  unsteadiness  perhaps. 

"  Yes,  Alma  Burton  kindly  volunteered  to  aid  me  in 
my  quest.  She  fancied  that  you  and  Mrs.  Boynton  had 
strayed  away  together.  Do  you  know,  I  sometimes  fancy 
that  you  prefer  the  society  of  that  lady  to  mine? " 

Lou  "Wentworth  perceived  that  he  was  indulging  his 
old  penchant  for  tantilizing,  and  was  quickly  on  her 
guard. 

"  For  once  your  fancy  impressed  you  aright,"  she  de- 
murely said. 


"Really,  Lou?"  There  was  more  earnestness  in  his 
tones  then  than  he  had  before  evinced. 

"We  are  both  serious,  aren't  we?  I  certainly  thought 
we  were,"  she  returned. 

They  walked  on  in  silence,  and  presently  came  to  the 
bridge  in  the  hollow  over  the  deep,  narrow  stream,  which 
swept  silently  through  the  valley.  They  paused  here, 
and  leaned  over  the  rail  to  look  at  the  black,  eddying  cur- 
rent. Its  stealthy  murmur  as  it  fretted  the  shelving 
banks  came  up  to  them  out  of  the  silence  and  gloom. 

"  What  a  romantic  place  for  committing  suicide,"  Roy 
gravely  observed. 

"  It  would  be  a  good  place  for  you  to  try  it.  I  know  of 
no  better — it  is  especially  suited  to  the  sort  of  frenzy 
which  would  actuate  the  attempt  in  one  of  your  temper- 
ament." 

He  looked  at  her  keenly,  but  it  was  too  dark  to  see 
more  than  the  soft  outlines  of  her  face.  The  white  wrap 
which  she  wore  was  pinned  close  at  her  throat. 

"  Why  is  this  so  especially  suited  for  me? "  he  asked, 
with  more  eagerness  than  the  lightness  of  the  badinage 
seemed  to  warrant. 

"  Because  the  current  is  so  strong  at  this  point  that  you 
could  not  sink ;  and  a  few  yards  below  the  stream  widens, 
and  is  scarce  a  foot  in  depth,  it  is  said.  So  you  wouldn't 
drown,  and  the  coldness  of  the  water  would  subdue  your 
frenzy." 

He  laughed  musically,  admiring  her  more  than  ever 
before.  Perhaps,  until  now,  he  had  supposed  'her  to  be 
more  loving  than  clever. 

"  I  might  hang  a  mill-stone  to  my  neck  before  jump- 
ing in,"  he  suggested. 

"  You  may  do  that  without  intending  to  drown  your- 
self. A  great  many  do,"  she  returned. 

"  It  is  unfair  to  make  a  figurative  retort  to  a  literal 
proposal." 

"  It  is  as  fair  as  for  one  to  expect  a  literal  answer  to  a 
figurative  proposal — isn't  it?  I  may  be  wrong." 


ABE  YOU  ILL,  TRACY?  37 

"  Yes,  you  are  wrong.  Besides,  I  have  not  indulged 
in  metaphor.  I  am  in  a  serious  mood  to-night,  more  se- 
rious than  you  dream." 

"  I'm  sorry  for  you,  then." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  the  opposite  is  the  case  with  me." 

"  Then,  if  I  should  make  a  serious,  solemn  proposal  of 
any  sort — one  affecting  your  happiness  and  mine  for  a 
lifetime,  how  should  you  answer  me?"  Again  his  tone 
was  eager. 

"  I  wouldn't  do  that  if  I  were  you,"  she  replied. 

"Why  not?" 

"  Because  I  should  make  a  figurative  response." 

"  If  it  were  an  assent  I  should  accept  it  even  in  that 
guise." 

"  It  would  not  be  an  assent." 

"You  are  unmerciful!"  he  exclaimed,  with  assumed 
bitterness. 

"  I  show  more  mercy  than  you  comprehend.  I  am 
wiser  than  you  concerning  the  aims  of  your  life,  and  in 
withholding  the  consummation  of  your  hopes  I  should  be 
exercising  the  highest  quality  of  mercy." 

"  Toward  you  or  me,  do  you  mean? " 

"  Both." 

He  was  silent  a  moment.  He  reached  upward  and 
plucked  a  handful  of  leaves  from  an  overhanging  beech 
and  cast  them  upon  the  swift  moving  stream. 

"  You  do  not  yet  know  that  I  entertain  hopes  which 
you  have  the  power  of  blighting,"  he  said  at  length. 

"  I  doubt  if  you  know  yourself,"  she  retorted,  a  fine 
scorn  in  her  tone. 

"  Don't  say  that,  Lou!"  he  cried,  this  time  with  an  ea- 
gerness which  was  unfeigned.  And  he  continued  with 
an  impetuousness  which  did  not  permit  of  interruption : 

"  You  think  I  live  upon  the  surf  ace  of  everything;  that 
no  wishes  nor  aspirations  reach  my  inner  nature.  Per- 
haps you  have  reasons  for  estimating  my  character  thus ; 
but  I  will  prove  to  you  that  you  are  wrong.  I  will  cast 


38  ABE  YOU  ILL,  TRACY? 

my  fate  upon  your  hands ;  I  will  show  you  that  I  have 
hopes,  and  you  shall  have  the  power  ana  opportunity  for 
deciding  them  now!" 

He  paused ;  and  in  that  pause  she  spoke,  with  an  odd 
commingling  of  lightness  and  resoluteness. 

"  I  told  you  how  I  should  treat  anything  of  a  serious 
character  from  your  lips  tonight.  I  shall  make  a  figura- 
tive response,  and  it  will  be  a  negative  at  that.  So  do  not 
hazard  your  fate  at  such  an  unauspicious  time.  It 
might  cost  you  your  night's  repose,  and  it  is  well  to  keep 
your  sleep  unbroken  as  long  as  you  may.  '  Where 
ignorance  is  bliss,'  you  know." 

He  was  silent  again,  possibly  at  a  loss  how  to  treat  her 
remark. 

"  And  if  I  wait  until  a  more  auspicious  time?"  he  ques- 
tioned, at  length. 

"  Do  not  attempt  to  fathom  what  the  future  may  hold 
in  store  for  you."  And  after  a  moment  she  added: 

"  Go  up  to  the  Magic  Spring  and  see  what  is  mirrored 
there — though  perhaps  you  have  tried  that  test  already. 
For — ha!  you  betray  guilt." 

Roy  Blanchard's  laugh  was  not  quite  so  light  as  it 
usually  was,  and  he  vouchsafed  no  reply  to  the  charge. 

It  was  her  turn  to  be  eager. 

"  Own  up  the  truth,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  of  assumed 
badinage ; "  you  drank  from  the  Magic  Spring.  Do  not 
deny  it." 

"  I  haven't  denied  it,"  he  returned. 

"  And  you  saw  a  face  mirrored  there?" 

«Yes.'y 

"Besides  your  own?"  her  voice  low  with  suppressed 
avidity  for  his  response. 

"  Besides  my  own,"  he  declared. 

"  The  face  of  Alma  Burton,  or — "  she  paused,  for  him 
to  reply. 

"  JN  o,  not  hers.5' 

"  It  doesn't  matter,"  with  assumed  indifference.  Then, 
to  repay  him  for  tantalizing  her,  she  added: 


THE  WIFE'S  SUGGESTION.  39 

"I  should  never  have  thought  you  capable  of  such 
folly.  It  might  do  for  a  school-girl,  but  in  you — !  " 

"To  what  folly  do  you  refer,  Miss  Wentworth?"  he 
asked,  with  assumed  ignorance  of  her  meaning. 

"The  trying  of  such  a  silly  test — a  fortune-telling 
trick!" 

"  I  tried  no  trick — at  least,  none  of  the  sort  to  which 
you  refer." 

"But  you  drank  from  the  magic  spring?" 

"Why  shouldn't  I,  if  I  was  thirsty?  It  is  remarkably 
good  water.  But  I  drank  at  noonday,  and  the  spell  is 
said  to  work  only  in  the  night-time. 

"  But  you  said  you  saw  a  face  reflected — one  beside 
your  own ! " 

"  "Which  was  true.  It  was  the  face  of  a  very  pretty- 
canine,  however,  which  took  a  fancy  to  drink  when  I  dia. 
Whose  dog  it  was — " 

She  interrupted  him  by  freeing  her  arm,  and  running 
briskly  up  the  road  toward  the  house. 

He  quickly  came  up  with  her,  eagerly  exclaiming: 

"  Forgive  me,  Lou! " 

"  There's  nothing  to  forgive,"  she  said,  with  a  reassur- 
ing laugh.  But  she  hurried  on,  and  in  a  moment  they 
came  in  sight  of  the  hotel. 

At  the  same  time  it  began  to  rain;  and  Lou  Went- 
worth again  joined  the  guests ;  and  later  retired  to  sleep, 
and  dream  of  her  hopes  and  doubts. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  WIFE'S  SUGGESTION. 

tc  Lovers,  and  madmen,  have  such  seething  brains, 
Such  shaping  fantasies  that  apprehend 
More  than  cool  reason  ever  comprehends." 

Midsummer  Night's  Dream. 

The  next  day  dawned  with  overcast  sky  and  a  cold, 
drizzling  rain. 

Cheerful  fires  were  kindled  in  the  halls  and  public 


40  THE  WIFE'S  SUGGESTION. 

rooms  of  the  hotel,  and  the  only  consolation  for  the 
guests,  shut  in  for  the  day,  was  in  the  charm  of  the  glow- 
ing coals  and  dancing  flames,  which,  however,  sent  out 
almost  too  much  warmth  for  perfect  comfort. 

Probably  the  tires  fully  compensated  for  the  loss  of  the 
sunshine  to  only  one  inmate  of  the  house.  Mr.  Brock, 
with  his  black  coat  buttoned  to  his  chin,  occupied  him- 
self by  going  from  one  tire-place  to  another,  pausing  for 
a  few  moments  before  each  to  bathe  his  white,  skinny 
hands  in  the  warmth.  He  was  freshly  shaved,  and  his 
cheeks  and  chin  shone  as  though  they  had  been  polished. 
This  skinniness  of  the  cuticle  upon  Mr.  Brock's  hands  as 
well  as  his  face,  was  a  peculiarity  which  no  one  could  fail 
to  notice. 

Mrs.  Boynton  kept  to  her  apartments  until  afternoon. 
The  morning  found  her  unusually  pale,  for  the  night  had 
not  been  a  reposeful  one  to  her.  Her  husband  was  irri- 
tated by  the  prospect  of  a  dull  day,  for  he,  with  several 
others,  had  arranged  for  a  fishing  excursion. 

"  "We  might  spend  this  day  together,  Chester,"  his  wife 
suggested.  She  stood  at  her  mirror,  adjusting  the  lace 
at  her  white  throat.  To  say  that  Tracy  Boynton  was 
pretty  is  not  doing  her  justice.  Her  loveliness  was  of  a 
rare,  classical  type,  such  as  an  artist  would  choose  for  an 
ideal  portrait.  It  is  hard  to  describe  such  beauty  as  hers; 
it  must  be  seen  to  be  admired,  and  it  is  seldom  seen. 

"  So  we.  might,"  he  replied,  with  a  faint  smile.  After 
a  moment  he  added : 

"  But  I  think  it' would  be  rather  better  taste  to  mingle 
with  the  other  guusts.  We  don't  wish  them  to  think 
us —  "  he  paused,  and  she  quickly  asked: 

"Think  us— what?" 

"  Spooney — like  a  pair  of  turtle-doves." 

She  made  no  response,  but  a  dash  of  pink  came  into 
her  cheeks  and  there  remained,  as  though  she  had  ap- 
plied rouge.  He  did  not  see  it,  however,  because  he  did 
not  look  at  her. 


THE  WIFE'S  SUGGESTION.  41 

"Don't  you  think  so?"  he  asked,  after  a  rather  pro- 
tracted interval  of  silence. 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course.  It  would  look  better  for  me  to 
stay  with  Lou  WentwortE,  or  Miss  Burton,  while  you 
might  sit  by  Mr.  Brock  and  help  him  to  keep  warm.  I 
don't  see  how  he  will  survive  the  day  unless  he  can  sun 
himself  upon  a  rock." 

The  scorn  in  her  tones  was  so  fine  that  it  was  almost 
lost  upon  the  hearer.  He  took  it  as  a  sort  of  pleasantry ; 
he  did  not  dream  that  her  words  were  intended  to  convey 
keen  reproach. 

"  I  hadn't  thought  of  Brock  to-day — I  haven't  seen 
him,  in  fact,"  Chester  remarked  in  a  careless  tone. 

"  I'm  afraid,"  he  continued,  "  that  the  poor  fellow  has 
frozen — that  his  blood  is  congealed  in  his  veins.  I  must 
look  him  up.  But  for  me  he  would  have  a  dull  time  of 
it  here,  I  declare." 

Mr.  Boynton  rose,  yawned,  went  to   the  mirror  and 
adjusted  his  tie,  and  then  went  from  the  room.     At  the 
door  he  paused  and  looked  back.     Tracy  had  seated  her 
self  by  a  window,  and  was  reading — or  seeming  to  do  so. 

"  Shall  I  send  Miss  Went  worth  up  to  see  you  f"  Chester 
asked. 

"  No." 

"  Perhaps  Mr.  Temple  will  come  over  by  and  by." 

"  I  hope  so.     I  truly  hope  he  will." 

She  threw  more  eagerness  into  her  tones  as  she  said 
this  than  she  really  felt.  But  this,  too,  was  lost  upon  her 
husband,  who  had  turned  away  to  greet  some  one  passing 
along  the  corridor.  The  next  moment  he  was  descending 
the  stairs. 

It  was  not  until  then  that  Tracy  covered  her  face  and 
gave  way  to  a  paroxysm  of  emotion. 

For  an  hour  she  sat  thus ;  but  her  fit  of  weeping  was  of 
only  a  few  moments  duration.  Her  thoughts  reverted 
to  the  occurrences  of  the  previous  evening — it  was  the 
first  time  she  had  had  for  thinking  them  alone.  Her  in- 
dulgence of  Lou  Wentworth's  whim  at  the  Magic  Springs, 


42  THE  WIFE'S  SUGGESTION. 

and  its  strange  consequences,  had  been  only  partially  dis- 
solved to  her  husband. 

She  had  refrained  from  telling  him  all,  not  from  a  wish 
to  deceive  him,  but  because  she  shrank  with  the  keen  ridi- 
cule which  she  was  sure  it  would  receive  at  his  hands. 

She  told  him  only  that  Lou  had  requested  her  to  go 
thither,  and  that  she  had  complied.  That  she  was  ner- 
vous at  the  time,  and  a  foolish  cause  frightened  her.  He 
was  satisfied  with  her  explanation;  he  would  doubless 
have  been  satisfied  if  she  had  given  him  less. 

"  You  and  Miss  Wentworth  have  been  probably  indulg- 
ing in  romantic  absurdities, like  a  couple  of  schoolgirls," 
he  had  said,  in  mild  reproach. 

"  It  was  so  strange — so  strange  ! "  the  young  wife  kept 
repeating  to  herself  now,  as  she  recalled  the  event. 

"Could  it  have  been  an  hallucination?  A  freak  of  my 
own  imagination,  wrought  upon  by  the  time  and  place? 
What  would  Lou  say,  if  she  knew?  and  Philip?  Chester 
would  only  laugh  at  me,  or  declare  that  I  had  drank  too 
strong  tea  of  late.  And  yet  how  plain  it  was — I  can  see 
it  now,  so  vivid  is  the  impression  upon  my  mind." 

Tracy  rose  at  length  and  bathed  her  face  in  cool  water. 
Then  she  went  down.  The  first  face  she  saw  was  Lou 
Wentworth's,  and  in  a  moment  they  were  together, 
ensconced  cosily  in  a  deep  window  by  themselves. 

"Tell  me  about  it,  won't  you?"  Lou  eagerly  questioned. 
For  I  know  you  saw  something.  You  wouldn't  have 
swooned  at  nothing." 

"It  was  very  dark  by  the  spring,"  Tracy  replied, 
speaking  slowly,  undecided  whether  to  make  a  confidante 
of  her  friend. 

"And  you  were  afraid?  But  something  must  have 
frightened  you! — something  weird  and  dreadful! " 

Lou  crossed  her  white  arms  upon  her  bosom  in  an 
unstudied,  yet  tragic  attitude,  and  the  big  blue  eyes,  and 
red,  parted  lips  all  expressed  a  degree  of  expectancy 
which  it  would  be  cruel  to  disappoint. 

"It  was  nothing  very   dreadful,  if  I  saw  anything," 


THE  WIFE'S  SUGGESTION.  43 

Mrs.  Boynton  replied.  Yet  rifts  of  white  crossed  her 
cheeks  as  she  spoke. 

"You  were-  terribly  startled,  I'm  sure.  And  you 
nearly  frightened  me  out  of  my  wits.  If  Mr.  Boynton 
hadn't  appeared  just  then  I  believe  /  should  have 
swooned,  too." 

"My  poor  child."  Tracy  gently  stroked  the  soft 
cheek  so  near  her  own. 

"  Perhaps  it  was  he  who  frightened  you — Mr.  Boynton, 
I  mean,"  Lou  exclaimed. 

"  No,  it  was  not  my  husband.  It  was  no  one.  Yet  I 
thought  I  saw  a  face!  " 

The  confession  was  uttered  scarce  above  a  whisper. 

"In  the  spring?"  the  girl  breathlessly  asked,  impul- 
sively catching  the  speaker's  hands  between  both  her  own. 

"Yes,  mirrored  beside  my  own.  It  was  only  a 
glimpse,  of  course,  for  I  screamed  and  started  back  upon 
the  instant.  Yet  it  was  distinct — yes,  very  distinct! " 

Mrs.  Boynton  shuddered  at  the  recollection,  even 
though  it  was  broad  daylight  then,  and  the  murmur  of 
voices  filled  the  room. 

Lou  did  not  question  her  further  just  then.  They  sat 
for  some  time  in  silence,  watching  the  dreary,  dripping 
rain  outside.  Then  the  girl  told  of  her  brief  stroll  with 
Roy  Blanchard,  and  all  that  passed  between  them. 
Then,  somewhat  later,  she  abruptly  said: 

"  One  thing  you  did  not  tell  me,  Tracy." 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Whose  face  you  saw  reflected  in  the  magic  spring." 

"  It  was  only  an  illusion." 

"  But  it  resembled  some  one,  of  course." 

"  Yes,  it  did — the  face  of  one  who  was  once  a  dear 
friend — almost  a  brother."  Mrs.  Boynton  paused,  and 
then  added:  "  Don't  ask  me  his  name,  dear.  And  we 
won't  think  any  more  about  it." 

"  What  if  I  had  gone  to  the  spring,  as  I  intended ;  do 
you  suppose  I  should  have  seen  anything?"  Lou  eagerly 
asked. 


44  .    -       THE  WIFE'S  SUGGESTION. 

"  Of  course  not,  unless  you  had  been  foolish  and  fanci- 
ful, as  I  was." 

"  Then  I  shouldn't  dare  to  go,  for  I  am. foolish,  and  I 
imagine  all  sorts  of  absurd  things.  I  shouldn't  dare  to 
go  mere  now,  even  at  noonday!" 

The  curtains  which  half  shut  the  window  recess  from 
the  room  were  drawn  back  at  this  moment,  somewhat 
hesitatingly,  and  a  frank,  handsome  face  which  Lou  had 
seen  but  once  before  looked  in. 

"Philip — in  spite  of  the  rain!"  Mrs.  Boynton  ex- 
claimed, rising  to  greet  him,  for  the  intruder  was  indeed 
Mr.  Temple,  who  evinced  a  shade  of  embarrassment  upon 
seeing  that  she  was  not  alone. 

Lou  rose  to  go ;  but  Mrs.  Boynton  detained  her. 

"  You  two  will  be  the  best  of  friends  in  half  an  hour," 
Tracy  declared,  when  she  had  presented  Philip,  and  he 
had  accepted  a  seat  tete-a-tete  with  both. 

"  I  am  sure  we  shall,"  Lou  coincided,  convinced  that 
Mr.  Temple  strongly  resembled  Roy  Blanchard.  As  she 
covertly  watched  his  face,  however,  she  could  not  decide 
for  the  life  of  her  in  what  the  resemblance  consisted. 
Perhaps  it  was  because  they  were  both  gentlemen,  and 
about  equally  prepossessing. 

Lou  was  keenly  observant,  and  when  Philip  had  first 
looked  in  upon  them  she  noticed  that  her  companion 
started  and  paled  slightly. 

"  I  wonder  if  k  wasn't  his  face  that  she  saw  reflected 
in  the  spring?"  she  mentally  asked  herself. 

"  Did  you  expect  a  little  rain  could  keep  me  all  day 
in  that  dull  place,  with  brightness  so  near?"  Temple 
exclaimed. 

"No,  I  expected  you,"  Tracy  admitted.  The  color 
had  returned  to  her  cheeks,  the  brilliance  to  her  eyes. 
Even  Lou  noticed  that  Mrs.  Boynton 's  dreamy  loveliness 
was  enhanced  by  a  new,  indescribable  charm. 

"  By  the  way,  I  met  your  husband  just  outside  as  I 
came,"  Philip  went  on.  "  He  was  laden  with  fishing- 
tackle,  and  with  two  or  three  others  was  starting  off  to 


THE  WIFE'S   SUGGESTION.  45 

a  brook  which  is  fabled  to  contain  trout.  I  don't*  know 
where  the  brook  is,  and  I'm  skeptical  about  the  trout. 
There  may  be  eels,  and  possibly  minnows.  He  told  me 
to  come  in  and  hunt  you  up.  As  he  didn't  ask  me  to  go 
with  him  I  suppose  he  did  not  care  for  my  companion- 
ship. Possibly  ne  feared  that  I  were  a  better  angler  than 
he,  or  that  I  would  bribe  the  trout." 

Lou  laughed  at  his  bright  humor  ;  and  Tracy  smiled, 
though  she  frowned  at  first. 

"So  he  has  gone,  after  all!"  she  exclaimed, half  in- 
voluntarily. 

"Then  you  didn't  know?"  in  some  surprise,  and 
with  a  penetrating  glance. 

"  He  spoke  of  going,  but  thought  it  rained  too  much," 
she  quickly  explained,  and  his  suspicion  that  there  had 
been  disagreement  between  them  was  set  aside.  And  she 
added : 

"  I'm  glad  he  did  not  invite  you  to  join  them,  for  I 
fear  you  would  have  been  tempted  to  go  beyond  vour 
power  to  withstand." 

"  Perhaps  I  should ;  human  nature  is  weak.  And 
that  reminds  me  that  I  met  with  a  rather  curious  adven- 
ture last  night,  as  I  was  returning  to  the  cottage  from 
here." 

A  rift  of  pallor  crossed  Tracy  Boynton's  face,  and  she 
turned  hastily  toward  the  window  to  hide  it.  But  Lou 
Wentworth  noted  her  agitation,  and  bent  eagerly  for- 
ward, curious  to  hear  what  Mr.  Temple  had  to  relate. 

At  the  same  moment  someone  in  the  next  room  sud- 
denly struck  a  low,  sweet  prelude  upon  the  great  piano. 
The  music  rose  and  throbbed  upon  the  air  with  a  melody 
as  strange,  and  weird  as  that  of  an  aeolian  harp. 


46  A  DREAM  OF  MUSIC. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A   DKKAM   OF   MUSIC. 

"  If  he,  compact  of  the  jars,  grow  musical, 
We  shall  have  shortly  discord  in  the  spheres." 

— As  You  Like  It. 

Mr.  Temple  told  the  story  of  his  adventure  with  the 
illusive  light,  appending  the  statements  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Webb.  His  listeners  did  not  once  interrupt  him. 

Miss  Wentworth  fairly  trembled  with  intense  interest 
in  the  romantic  tale.  Tracy  gazed  out  upon  the  dreary 
landscape  until  he  had  finished;  and  all  the  while  the 
music  rose  and  fell  with  plaintive  sweetness  in  the  ad- 
joining room. 

"  I  shall  be  afraid  to  stay  near  this  mountain  if  it  is 
infested  with  such  serie  apparitions  and  secrets,"  Lou 
exclaimed,  when  he  had  finished. 

"  We  will  form  a  committee  of  investigation  one  of 
these  days,  and  unearth  the  trickster  who  would  victim- 
ize us,"  Temple  returned,  with  assumed  lightness. 

"  Who  knows  but  we  may  discover  a  bevy  of  witches, 
chanting  over  their  cauldron  and  cooking  a  charm,  up 
among  the  rocks,"  Tracy  suggested,  facing  her  com- 
panions. 

"  Perhaps  it  was  thence  that  the  thunder  was  conjured 
yesterday,  when  1  found  you  crouching  upon  the  moun- 
tain-side," Philip  laughed. 

Lou  clapped  her  hands  to  her  ears,  quickly  crying: 

"  You'll  drive  me  mad  with  your  uncanny  suggestions 
if  you  keep  on.  I  feel  as  though  I  had  just  awakened 
from  a  nightmare  already." 

They  all  laughed  to  banish  the  spell. 

"That  music  affects  me  more  than  Mr.  Temple's 
story,"  Mrs.  Boynton  declared,  with  a  shrug  of  her  grace- 
ful shoulders.  "  Whom  can  it  be  playing,  Lou? " 

"One  whose  fingers  evoke  the  strangest  melody  to 


A  DREAM  OF  MUSIC.  47 

which  1  ever  listened,"  Philip  said,  listening.     "  I  shall 
dream  of  that  music,"  he  added,  a  moment  later. 

"  I  will  know  whom  the  magician  is,"  Lou  exclaimed, 
darting  away  from  them  like  a  fairy.  When  she  had 
gone,  Mr.  Temple  bent  his  face  a  little  nearer  his  com- 
panion. 

"  I  had  a  dream  last  night  which  has  haunted  me  ever 
since,"  he  said,  unconsciously  using  a  lower  tone. 

"A  dream  of  music?"  she  questioned. 

"  No,  though  it  was  rather  weird.  Stimulated,  prob- 
ably, by  my  odd  experience  in  the  evening.  My  unex- 
pected meeting  with  you  had  something  to  do  with  it, 
also." 

"Aren't  you  going  to  tell  us  what  it  was?  You  have 
stirred  up  my  curiosity,  and  now  you  have  no  right  to 
disappoint  it." 

"  I  didn't  intend  to  tell  you."  A  faint  blush  mantled 
his  cheeks,  which  from  the  first  she  had  noticed  were 
rather  pale. 

"  It  is  hardly  suitable  for  me  to  repeat,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances," he  added. 

"  You  should  not  even  dream  of  unsuitable  things," 
Mrs.  Boynton  declared. 

"  I   suppose  not.     Nor  of  ridiculous  ones,  either, 
presume?" 

"  Then  your  dream  was  ridiculous  ?  And  it  has 
haunted  you  ever  since!  And  you  think  it  was  partly 
stimulated  by  meeting  me,  as  though  that  were  ridicu- 
lous." 

Her  badinage  reminded  him  of  the  old  days  before 
their  separation  so  strongly  as  to  give  him  pain. 

"  You  used  to  talk  in  that  way  when — but  you  re- 
member," he  exclaimed.  This  was  the  first  time  he  had 
made  allusion  to  former  times;  an  irresistible  impulse 
impelled  the  remark. 

"And  you  didn't  enjoy  it  very  well,  if  I  remember 
rightly,"  she  returned,  in  the  same  light  tone. 

She  was  intently  examining  the  petals  of  a  tea-rose  as 


48  A  DREAM  OF  MUSIC. 

she  spoke.  The  flower  was  withered  and  odorless — one 
which  someone  had  tossed  upon  the  window-seat  the 
evening  before. 

"  I  preferred  a  more  serious  strain  in  those  days — with 
you  at  least,"  Philip  declared. 

Now  that  they  were  upon  the  subject,  both  found  it 
irrestibly  fascinating.  Each  was  curious  to  hear  what 
the  other  had  to  say. 

"  It  all  doubtless  seems  very  foolish,  as  you  think  of  it 
now? "  she  went  on,  without  raising  her  eyes  to  his  face. 

The  music  at  this  moment  rose  in  fuller  volume,  and 
she  was  obliged  to  lean  toward  him  to  hear  his  reply. 

"No,  it  does  not,"  he  replied,  very  gravely.  "  1  was 
at  the  years  of  discretion  even  then,  you  will  bear  in 
mind, "-he  added,  the  emphasis  very  light  yet  plain  upon 
the  personal  pronoun. 

"  So  you  were,  now  I  think  of  it!  "  She  glanced  up  at 
him  and  smiled  as  she  said  this. 

He  smiled  also,  although  the  attempt  was  little  better 
than  a  ghastly  grimace. 

"  You  were  fortunate  in  escaping  my  serious  designs, 
considering  your  youth,"  he  said,  stimulated  for  the 
retort.  "Your  forethought  was  quite  Promethean,  in 
fact.  I  should  think  you  would  thank  the  stars  under 
which  you  were  born  for  your  great  good  fortune." 

"  Then  you  really  think  I  am  fortunate? "  she  quickly 
asked,  as  though  interpreting  his  remark  seriously. 

"  In  one  sense,  certainly,"  he  replied. 

"  I  don't  mean  that."  She  said  this  with  an  impatient 
gesture.  And  looking  him  frankly  in  the  face  she  went 
on:  "You  know  I  liked  you  then,  and  like  you  now. 
You  would  have  made  me  happy."  This  was  delicate 
ground,  and  the  color  deepened  upon  her  cheeks.  But 
she  had  an  end  to  reach,  and  did  not  falter.  "  It  is  not 
that  I  escaped  disappointment  by  refusing  you.  But  I 
wish  you  to  tell  me  what  you  think — of  him!  " 

The  instant  the  words  had  passed  her  lips,  she  realized 
that  she  had  not  said  what  she  intended  to  say.  The 


A  DREAM  OF  MUSIC.  49 

whole  remark  verged  upon. an  impropriety.  He  saw  her 
confusion ;  a  finer  sense  than  many  possess  permitted  him 
to  understand,  better  than  herself,  the  promptings  of  her 
words. 

"  I  think  he  is  evidently  a  very  evil-minded  man;  pos- 
sibly a  murderer,  or  red-handed  pirate  masquerading 
under  respectable  colors,"  Philip  Temple  declared,  as 
though  he  thought  her  impetuous  query  had  been  made 
in  jest.  And  the  delicate  turn  of  his  retort  relieved  her 
embarrassment,  which  it  was  in  his  power  to  have  made 
painful. 

But  it  was  not  in  his  heart  to  allow  her  even  to  inflict 
pain  upon  herself. 

Her  confusion  was  still  further  banished  by  the  appear- 
ance of  Miss  Wentworth,  whose  dimpled  face  wore  an 
almost  rapt  expression. 

"  Did  you  ever  here  such  music? "  she  cried,  in  a  whis- 
per which  was  very  shrill. 

Once  more  they  became  concious  of  the  rythmic,  throb- 
bing melody,  which  rose  and  fell  like  the  breaking  of 
surr  upon  a  distant  shore.  At  times  it  died  away  to  a 
faint  murmur,  as  though  an  adverse  wind  bore  the  sounds 
another  way.  Then  it  would  swell  upon  the  air  again, 
like  a  strong  wind  sweeping  the  tuneful  strings  of  an 
aeolian  harp. 

As  Philip  had  said,  it  was  such  music  as  one  might 
dream  of. 

"  It  is  wonderful,"  Temple  said. 

"I  wish  it  would  stop!"  Mrs.  Boynton  exclaimed, 
half  -  breathlessly. 

"  You  haven't  told  us  yet  the  name  of  the  performer?" 
Philip  reminded. 

"  You  couldn't  guess  in  a  week."  Lou  returned. 

"  Probably  not,  as  I  don't  know  anyone  in  the  house, 
except  Mrs.  Boynton  and  yourself." 

"  I  sha'n't  tell  you,  either,  you  shall  come  and  see  for 
yourself.  All  the  people  are  in  there,  and  they  are  under 
a  Bpell,  I  think.  You  will  be  surprisd,  Tracy,  more  than 


50  A  DREAM  OF  MUSIC. 

I  was,  because — but  I  won't  give  you  a  single  clue, 
come?" 

She  beckoned  them  on,  and  half -mechanically  they  fol- 
lowed. They  passed  through  one  deserted  room  and 
reached  the  doorway  of  another — the  one  where  the  piano 
was. 

They  paused  upon  the  threshold  and  looked  in.  All 
the  guests  were  there,  some  standing,  others  sitting.  As 
Lou  Went  worth  had  expressed  it,  they  seemed  to  have 
fallen  under  a  spell.  But  it  was  broken  at  the  moment, 
for  the  music  ceased. 

The  player  rose  from  the  instrument,  shrugged  his 
shoulders,  walked  over  to  the  fireplace  and  bathed  his 
hands  in  the  warmth. 

It  was  Mr.  Brock! 

There  was  a  moment  of  breathless  silence,  and  then 
someone  attempted  to  applaud.  But  only  one  or  two 
others  joined  in,  and  the  attempt  was  abandoned  amid 
some  embarrassment. 

There  was  likewise  a  murmur  of  "  wonderful,"  "  weird," 
and  kindered  expressions,  which  became  quite  general. 

Mr.  Brock  bowed  and  smiled  his  acknowledgment, 
and  sinking  upon  a  chair,  abandoned  himself  to  the  pleas- 
ure of  getting  warm. 

"  Did  you  ever  hear  the  like,  Mrs.  Boynton  ?"  exclaimed 
Alma  Burton,  who  had  drawn  near  them.  She  was  rather 
tall,  rather  pale,  and  evidently  of  the  dreamy,  listless 
type  of  young  women,  who  are  always  popular  with  the 
otner  sex,  though  they  sometimes  fail  to  get  a  husband 
of  their  very  own.  Alma's  eyes  were  dark,  her  lashes 
long,  and  she  lent  everyone  an  impression  that  she  was 
beautiful.  Yet  a  closer  study  of  her  features  brought 
disappointment.  She  was  not  even  pretty.  She  merely 
knew  how  to  smile,  and  possessed  a  pleasing  voice. 

"  I  never  wish  to  again,"  Tracy  replied,  in  an  incau- 
tious tone.  Mr.  Brock  glanced  toward  them  in  his  alert 
fashion,  but  it  was  unlikely  that  he  distinguished  her 
words,  as  he  betrayed  no  signs  of  having  done  so. 


A  DREAM  OF  MUSIC.  51 

"  Then  you  aidn't  enjoy  it?"  Alma  questioned  so  cau- 
tiously that  Mr.  Brock  could  not  by  any  possibility  over- 
hear. For  Miss  Burton  always  took  care  that  no  one 
should  dislike  her. 

"  No.  It  sounded  like  the  performer — subtle,  danger- 
ous to  the  senses!" 

They  were  in  the  next  room  when  this  was  spoken,  so 
there  was  no  danger  of  giving  offense  to  the  object  of  the 
remark. 

"  Tracy  is  so  queer,"  Lou  exclaimed.  "  She  likes  or 
dislikes  everybody.  There  is  no  half-way  with  her,  I'm 
not  like  that.  There  are  those  1  hate,  and  others  that  I 
love,  and  a  great  many  whom  I  call  my  friends,  and  yet 
don't  care  very  much  for  them." 

"And  I  like  everybody,"  declared  Alma,  with  one  of 
her  rare  smiles.  She  might  have  added  with  equal  truth 
that  no  one  disliked  her. 

Philip  had  stopped  to  speak  to  Mr.  Brock.  He  now 
came  up,  and  was  presented  to  Miss  Burton. 

"  Mr.  Brock  declares  that  the  reception  his  music  has 
met  with  gave  him  the  chills,"  Temple  said,  laughing. 

"  Poor  fellow!     I  really  pity  him,"  Alma  exclaimed. 

"  If  there  is  one  who  pities,  she  should  let  the  senti- 
ment do  the  object  some  good." 

This  was  Mrs.  Boynton's  suggestion. 

"  It  would  be  a  sight  for  the  gods,  Alma  bestowing 
consolation  upon  Mr.  Brock,"  cried  Lou.  "They  say 
that  pity  is  akin  to  love,"  she  added,  perhaps  a  little 
spitefully. 

" '  To  trace  all  actions  to  their  secret  springs, 
Would  make  indeed  some  melancholy  mirth! ' " 

Alma  sweetly  quoted. 

Just  then  Roy  Blanchard  appeared,  and  upon  some 
slight  pretext — it  did  not  require  a  great  one — he  led 
Alma  and  Lou  away. 

At  the  same  time  Philip  made  a  discovery.  It  was  a 
rift  of  sunlight  upon  the  floor.  It  faded  even  while  he 
was  looking,  yet  it  promised  a  clearing  up  of  the  storm. 


52  A.  DRKAM  OF  MUSIC. 

"The  discovery  is  ours,  and  let  us  be  the  first  to 
behold  the  departure  of  the  vanquished  clouds,"  Tracy 
exclaimed,  a  sudden  glow  brightening  her  cheeks.  In  a 
moment  they  were  out  upon  the  veranda.  To  their 
surprise  they  saw  that  the  broken  clouds  through  which 
the  sunshine  gleamed  were  low  upon  the  western  horizon. 
"  Another  day  nearly  gone,"  said  Philip.  And  he  added : 
"  I  must  go,  Tracy.  Jason  Webb  promised  to  help  me 
investigate  the  mystery  which  I  encountered  last  night. 
Do  you  know,  that  silly  adventure  has  haunted  me  ever 
since  it  occurred! " 

She  looked  at  him  searchingly.  "And  your  dream  of 
last  night, — does  that  haunt  you,  too?"  she  questioned. 

He  smiled,  hesitated,  then  answered: 

"  Yes,  and  you  shall  know  what  it  was,  though  it  is 
bad  taste  in  me  to  repeat  it.  You  will  bear  in  mind  that 
it  was  only  a  dream." 

"  I  will  remember." 

"  "Well,  I  dreampt  that  I  was  thirsty,  and  bent  over  a 
spring  of  water  to  drink." 

He  hesitated  again,  seeing  a  fixed,  startled  look  come 
into  her  face. 

"Go  on — go  on!"  she  breathlessly  exclaimed. 

"  And  I  saw  your  face  reflected  there ;  and,  as  I  might 
once  have  done,  I  bent  to  kiss  the  image.  The  contact 
awoke  me,  and  I  found — "  He  interrupted  himself,  for 
Mrs.  Boynton's  face  had  grown  deathly  white,  and  she 
seemed  about  to  swoon. 

At  the  same  time  he  became  conscious  of  a  third 
presence.  And  turning,  he  saw,  bundled  up  in  an 
overcoat,  the  eccentric  Mr.  Brock  1 


THE  MAGIC  SPRING.  53 


CHAPTEK  IX. 

THE   MAGIC   SPRING. 

"  Of  love  that  never  found  his  earthly  close, 
What  sequel?" 

Tenneyson. 

By  a  powerful  effort  Tracy  Boynton  controlled  the  sud- 
den sense  of  faintness  which  had  come  upon  her.  The 
sight  of  Mr.  Brock  stimulated  her  effort,  as  a  sudden 
danger  which  called  for  vigorous  self-defense  might  have 
done. 

Mr.  Brock  wTas  close  behind  Philip,  yet  there  was  no 
sign  that  he  had  overheard  what  the  young  man  was  say- 
ing. He  seemed  absorbed  in  watching  the  red  glow  that 
lit  up  the  distant  trees  and  clouds. 

Philip  would  have  stepped  forward  to  assist  his  com- 
panion, but  by  a  slight,  yet  vehement  gesture  she  waved 
him  back. 

"  A  shoolboy's  dream  I  should  call  that,"  she  said,  in 
a  tone  of  forced  lightness.  Then,  while  he  was  bewil- 
dered by  her  pallor  and  incongruous  speech,  she  added : 

"  Perhaps  you  were  thinking  of  the  romantic  stories 
told  of  the  spring  over  yonder,  which  is  said  to  reflect 
the  face  of  one's  sweetheart  if  one  drinks  from  it  by 
moonlight.  Of  course  you  have  heard  about  it — your 
Mr.  Webb  is  of  course  familiar  with  all  the  fables  con- 
cerning places  of  interest  in  this  vicinity." 

"The  Magic  Spring,  is  it  called?"  Philip  questioned. 

Mr.  Brock  suddenly  seemed  to  become  cognizant  of 
theirpresence.  He  faced  them,  and  gravely  said: 

"  You  young  people  may  laugh  at  such  things,  but 
you'll  see  the  day  that  you'll  believe  in  'em." 

Both  looked  at  him  in  surprise.  There  was  an  expres- 
sion of  deep  earnestness  upon  his  cold,  white  face. 

"  So  you  put  faith  in  that  sort  of  thing? "  Philip  ques- 
tioned. 


54  '  THE  MAGIC  8PEING. 

"  Yes,  and  with  reason,"  lie  replied. 

"  You  have  had  personal  experience? " 

"  Yes.  And  I've  seen  others  have  it.  Minds  impress 
minds  when  they  are  distant  from  each  other.  There 
are  laws  we  know  nothing,  or  very  little  about.  Scien- 
tists don't  count  them  as  worthy  of  investigation ;  such  as 
you  laugh  at  them ;  ignorant  people  run  away  from  them. 
I  suppose,  Mr  Temple,  that  you've  heard  of  the  myste- 
rious lights  seen  upon  the  mountain  base  at  night?  The 
spot  is  yonder,  half  mile  or  such  a  matter  from  here. 
Decidedly  odd,  and  worth  looking  into,  I  take  it." 

Mr  Brock  buttoned  his  coat  more  closely  and  thrust 
his  hands  deep  in  his  pockets,  as  though  it  were  a  bitter 
cold  day. 

"Have  you  seen  the  phenomenon?"  Philip  questioned. 

"  Yes,  once.  I'm  seldom  out  after  sunset,  however. 
Evening  gives  me  a  chill  even  indoors.  But  Isaw  it  once. 
Tried  to  find-  where  it  was,  with  usual  results.  Illusive, 
mysterious,  aggravating.  May  look  into  the  matter  at 
some  future  time.  I  may  not  What's  your  idea?  Got 
a  theory,  I  suppose?" 

"  I  have  no  theory,"  Philip  replied.  The  other  shrugged 
his  shoulders  and  abruptly  rose. 

"  Sun  setting  in  a  cloud — sign  of  more  rain,"  he  de- 
clared, in  evident  disgust.  And  then,  with  a  nod : 

"Good  night.  When  Boynton  comes  I'd  like  to  see 
him.  Game  of  whist  on  the  docket." 

The  black  moustache  moved  in  what  might,  or  mignt 
not,  have  been  a  smile,  and  then  the  eccentric  man 
stalked  into  the  house. 

In  silence  Philip  descended  the  steps,  and  walked 
slowly  along  the  path.  Mrs.  Boynton  walked  by  his  side. 
As  Mr.  Brock  had  declared,  the  sun  was  sinking  into  a 
cloud.  The  western  horizon  was  rugged  and  uneven  in 
outline.  There  were  mountains  and  hills,  lying  in  a  long 
irregular  range,  blue  and  misty  in  the  distance.  They 
were  crowned  with  a  glory  of  purple  and  gold.  The  gold, 
however,  was  fading,  and  the  purple  became  more  somber. 


THE  MAGIC  SPRING.     •  55 

Along  the  path  lay  lights  and  shadows,  wavering  and 
swaying,  assuming  fantastic  outlines,  coming  and  going 
like  uhe  joys  and  sorrows  of  life.  The  valley  below,  with 
the  zigzag  road,  lay  fresh  and  green,  as  though  it  were 
newly  made,  verdure  and  all. 

Presently  Mrs.  Boynton  paused,  cast  a  quick  glance 
backward. 

"  I  must  go  no  farther,  or  I  shall  not  dare  return  alone," 
she  said. 

"  Perhaps  we  may  meet  your  husband  if  we  keep  on," 
Philip  suggested. 

"  He  will  not  be  alone,  and  I  had  rather  not  meet  him 
with  the  others.  I  wish  he  had  not  gone  at  all.  I  hoped 
he  would  stay  and  help  to  make  it  pleasant  for  you.  I 
wish  you  to  become  friends." 

She  spoke  very  earnestly,  her  voice  so  low  that  he 
could  not  have  distinguished  her  words  but  for  the  per- 
fect stillness  that  reigned  around  them. 

"  Perhaps  he  doesn't  care  to  count  me  as  a  friend," 
the  young  man  returned.  Unconsciously,  when  alone 
together,  they  had  assumed  the  low,  confidential  tones 
and  manner  which  had  characterized  their  conversations 
in  former  days. 

"  It  isn't  that,  Philip,"  she  quickly  said.  There  was 
another  brief  pause.  And  then  : 

"  Chester  and  you  are  very  unlike  each  other.  He  is 
not  one  to  form  strong  friendships.  He  is  rather  indiff- 
erent toward  those  whom  he  calls  'ordinary  people.'  He 
has  a  great  mind,  and  a  great  soul." 

Philip  looked  at  her  with  covert  keenness.  How  beau- 
tiful she  was!  He  lingered  at  her  side  as  though  under 
a  spell. 

"  Did  you  ever  speak  to  him  of  me!  "  he  presently 
asked.  "  Before  we  met  yesterday,  I  mean,"  he  added, 
as  she  hesitated. 

"  No,"  she  answered. 

"Why  not?" 

"  There  never  came  a  fit  time,  but  once.     Once  we 


56  THE  MAGIC  SPRING. 

were  speaking  of  a  young  couple  of  our  acquaintance  who 
broke  what  was  supposed  to  be  a  virtual  engagement.  I 
then  came  near  speaking  of  you  and  our  former  relations. 
But  he  uttered  a  rein  rk  that  sealed  my  lips." 

"  What  did  he  say  ?" 

"That  he  would  as  soon  wed  the  divorced  wife  of 
another,  as  one  who  had  been  affianced.  He  believes 
that  a  sentiment,  although  buried  for  a  time,  is  im- 
mortal, and  may  spring  into  life  again." 

Philip  Temple's  face  was  very  pale;  but  the  sunset 
glow  falling  upon  it  disguised  the  fact. 

"  I  believe  that  love,  if  genuine,  is  never  buried,"  he  de- 
clared, speaking  slowly,  yet  in  a  firm,  even  tone.  "  There 
are  betrothals  which  are  the  mere  fruits  of  fancy,"  he  went 
on, "  and  these  may  be  broken  and  renewed,  likethe  sworn 
friendships  of  boys  and  girls  at  school.  They  are  with- 
out foundation,  and  like  a  bubble,  they  are  dissipated,  as 
they  ought  to  be.  But  there  are  betrothals  in  which  the 
hand  of  fate  is  unmistakably  present.  These  are  some 
times  broken.  But  the  sentiment  prompting  them  is 
never  buried.  It  springs  from  the  roots  of  their  mutual 
existence,  and  although  they  may  be  separated,  and  marry 
a  later  choice,  the  first  love  merely  sleeps.  Misfortune, 
misunderstanding,  the  common  discords  of  life  may 
awaken  it,  and  the  realization  that  a  mistake  has  been 
made  will  come  like  a  shock." 

Temple  paused ;  his  gaze  had  been  fixed  upon  the  deep- 
ening shadows  of  the  valley;  now  he  faced  his  companion, 
his  countenance  lighted  by  the  frank  smile  which  bespoke 
only  a  chivalrous,  honorable  friendliness. 

"What  is  your  belief,  Tracy?"  he  questioned. 

"Mine?"  She  raised  her  eyes  to  his  face  for  a  mo- 
ment. Then  abruptly: 

"  Look  yonder  and  you  will  see  a  pair  of  lovers,  pure 
and  simple!" 

He  turned  to  glance  in  the  direction  indicated,  and  saw 
Roy  Blanchard,  in  a  stooping  posture,  and  being  trans- 
formed into  a  savage  at  the  hands  of  Lou  Wentworth — 


THE  MAGIC  SPRING  57 

at  least,  in  appearance,  for  he  was  bedecked  from  head  to 
foot  in  clematis  and  trailing  evergreen.  At  the  same  time 
Philip  heard  the  rustle  of  drapery,  and  turning,  saw  Mrs 
Boynton  running  away  from  him  with  the  lightness  and 
grace  of  a  gazelle 

"  Good  night!"  he  called  after  her  But  she  did  not 
even  glance  (backward  in  response.  In  another  moment 
she  was  hidden  from  view. 

Temple  turned  away  with  a  sense  of  indescribable  dis 
appointment.     Why  should  he  experience  such  a  feeling? 
In  a  vague  sort  of  way  he  asked  himself  the  question 
But  he  did  not  answer  it     As  he  strode  rapidly  along 
the  path,  a  sense  of  weighty  depression  assailed  him. 

'•'I'll  go  away  to-morrow!"  ne  exclaimed,  as  he  has 
tened  on  through  the  gathering  shadows.  "  There  is  no 
reason  why  1  should  remain  nere  Mr.  Boynton,  it  is 
evident,  dislikes  me.  I  had  hoped  that  they  might  help 
me  to  pass  the  month  of  my  sojourn  here  more  happily. 
But  such  is  not  my  good  fortune." 

The  resolution  to  go  away  on  the  morrow  was  but  the 
result  of  an  impulse,  and  that  quickly  passed.  As  he 
neared  the  point  at  which  he  had  met  with  the  curious 
adventure  upon  the  night  before,  his  thoughts  were  di- 
verted from  the  fit-  of  moodiness  into  which  he  had  fallen. 

It  was  not  yet  dark.  Under  the  shadow  of  the  moun- 
tain the  twilight  lingered  long,  Around  the  rock  be- 
yond which  he  had  seen  the  mysterious  light  mingled 
light  and  shadows  lay  They  danced  and  shifted  gro- 
tesquely with  the  slowly  swaying  branches  of  the  sur- 
rounding trees  and  shrubbery.  A  soft  breeze,  which  had 
suddenly  sprung  up  into  life,  whispered  amidst  the 
foliage,  and  sent  down  showers  of  water  from  the  laden 
leaves. 

Temple  paused  and  glanced  toward  the  spot  whence 
the  mysterious  light  had  gleamed.  A  sense  of  vague 
uneasiness  stole  over  him.  A  red  squirrel  scampered 
past  him,  and  he  started  as  though  he  feared  assault.  In 
this  place  all  sounds  and  all  objects  assumed  a  weirdness 


58  THE  MAGIC  SPBDfO. 

that  was  almost  oppressive.  But  he  did  not  see  the 
illusive  light. 

"It  is  too  early,"  he  reflected.  And  then  he  laughed 
outright.  "  As  though  I  really  expected  to  encounter 
some  uncanny  apparition,"  he  added,  contemptuously. 
"  I  will  look  the  ground  over  now,  while  there  is  suf- 
ficient light.  I  will  see  for  myself  if  there  is  not  some 
easily  discoverable  cause  for  the  phenomenon  which  has 
puzzled  so  many.  A  little  coolness  and  care  may  clear 
up  the  whole  affair." 

He  began  pushing  his  way  through  the  labyrinth  of 
undergrowth.  As  he  did  so,  a  sudden  "  swish  "  in  his 
rear  caused  him  to  abruptly  face  about. 


THE  LIGHT  AGAIN.  59 


CHAPTEK  X. 

THE  LIGHT  AGAIN. 

"  I  have  thee  not,  and  yet  I  see  thee  still, 

Art  thou  not,  fatal  vision,  sensible 

To  feeling  as  to  sight  f "  Macbeth. 

Temple  saw  the  figure  of  a  man  in  the  path;  a  young 
stalwart  fellow,  who  had  paused,  and  was  peering  through 
the  shrubbery. 

"  Halloa,  Webb!"  Philip  ejaculated,  advancing. 

"  So  you're  here  ahead  of  me,"  the  young  farmer  re- 
turned, in  his  quiet  tone. 

The  two  looked  into  each  other's  faces  in  mute  ques- 
tioning for  a  moment. 

"  I've  seen  nothing  yet,"  Temple  declared,  at  length. 

"  Been  here  long?"  the  other  asked. 

"  No,  I  was  on  my  way  to  your  house.  I  thought  I 
wouldn't  keep  Mrs.  Webb  waiting  for  me  to-night." 

"  If  you  want  your  supper,  we'll  go  over.  But  I  thought 
maybe  you  would  rather  stop  and  investigate  this  busi- 
ness first  Just  as  you  say." 

"  If  it  makes  no  difference  to  your  wife; — " 

Webb  interrupted  by  a  gesture. 

"  Not  a  bit,"  he  declared.  He  glanced  upward  at  the 
heavy  clouds  and  added: 

"  We  might  wait  till  a  better  night.  The  storm  isn't 
over  with  yet  I  guess.  Looks  to  me  as  though  we  should 
have  a  young  deluge  before  morning."  Even  as  he  spoke 
the  patter  of  huge  raindrops  sounded  around  them. 

"I'm  not  afraid  of  the  rain;  I  rather  like  it,  in  fact," 
Temple  returned. 

Indeed,  the  more  difficult  the  adventure,  the  greater 
zest  in  its  pursuit  in  his  present  mood. 

There  was  a  sort  of  pleasant  excitement  in  the  antici- 
pation of  genuine  adventure.  For,  although  he  did  not 
believe  in  the  supernatural,  Philip  was  impressed  by  a 


60 

certainty  that  lie  was  upon  the  eve  of  an  extraordinary 
experience. 

"  Just  as  you  say,"  Webb  declared,  He  led  the  way 
to  a  spot  partly  under  the  huge,  shelving  rock,  and  said: 

"  We  might  as  well  wait  here  until  it  gets  darker.  "We 
can't  find  nothing  by  daylight.  Maybe  there'll  nothing 
happen  to-night,  anyhow.  Be  just  our  luck,  wouldn't  it  ?" 

The  rain  began  to  fall  heavily,  and  the  twilight  rapidly 
deepened  into  darkness.  The  moon  would  not  set  for  an 
hour  or  more,  and  it  promised  to  be  very  dark  before 
that  time,  for  the  clouds  already  obscured  its  feeble 
light. 

Webb  produced  and  lighted  a  lantern 

"  Thought  this  would  help  us  some,"  he  said. 

"  We  shall  need  it,  without  doubt."  Temple  paused, 
and  then  added,  with  a  laugh,  "Aren't  you  afraid  the 
ghosts  will  break  it  for  you?" 

"No,  I  guess  not.  I  sha'n't  run  till  I'm  obliged  to 
I  can  take  care  of  myself,  I  think,  and  I  guess  you  can  " 

"  This  is  a  queer  sort  of  adventure  for  me  to  be  mixed 
up  with,"  said  Temple,  half -musingly.  It  was  now  rain- 
ing so  heavily  that  there  was  a  dull  roar  all  around  them. 
It  presently  slackened,  however,  and  Jason  Webb  rose  to 

•L-        £ 

his  feet, 

"  I'm  going  to  see  if  it's  there,"  he  declared. 

"The  light,  you  mean? " 

"Yes." 

He  handed  his  lantern  to  Temple  and  added: 

"  Keep  that  and  stay  here  till  I  come  back.  We  don't 
want  to  scare  the  spooks  off  to  begin  with,  you  know." 

Philip  took  the  lantern,  and  crouched  close  underneath 
the  rocK,  which  effectually  kept  off  the  rain,,  Jason 
Webb  glided  out  into  the  path,  and  passed  from  view. 

Several  long,  silent  moments  dragged  away.  Silent, 
save  for  the  dripping  rain  and  slight  rustling  sound  of 
the  foliage  stirred  by  the  light  breeze,  Then  the  stout 
form  of  Webb  came  into  view. 

"  It's  there  f"  he  announced  in  a  whisper. 


THE   LIGHT  AGAIH.  61 

"The  light?"  Philip  questioned. 

"Yes."* 

"In  the  usual  place?" 

"  Just  the  same.  Bather  brighter  than  usual,  though. 
Owing  to  the  darkness,  probably." 

Jason  Webb's  tones  did  not  betray  the  slightest  trace 
of  excitement.  But,  although  incredulous  and  deter- 
mined, Mr.  Temple  could  not  help  a  sensation  of  vague 
apprehension. 

"  We'll  find  out  what  it  all  means  if  there's  any  way  to 
do  it,"  he  exclaimed,  stepping  forth  into  the  path. 

In  another  moment  the  twain  stood  at  the  point  whence 
the  mysterious  ]ight  was  visible.  There  it  was,  bright, 
steady,  save  for  the  twinkling  effect  lent  bp  the  swaying 
shrubbery 

Philip  looked  down  at  the  ground  at  his  feet.  Rifts  of 
light  and  shadow,  cast  by  the  mysterious  glow,  were 
visible  there. 

"  Nothing  ghostly  about  that,  to  all  appearance,"  he 
declared,  audibly. 

"  I  should  say  there  wasn't,  and  the  next  thing  is  to  go 
to  it.  How  shall  we  do  that?  Together?" 

"  Yes." 

"And  if  we  find  nothing?" 

"  Then  one  of  us  will  come  back,  and  the  other  stay, 
with  the  lantern.  Then  the  one  in  the  path  can  tell 
whether  the  light  still  shines  or  whether  it's  an  illusion 
peculiar  to  this  exact  point  of  view.  It's  mighty  persis- 
tent anyhow.  I'm  getting  dead  in  earnest." 

Temple  was,  indeed,  thoroughly  aroused.  A  practical, 
clear-headed  man  dislikes  to  encounter  any  puzzle  that 
appears  simple,  and  yet  will  not  be  solved. 

Temple  strode  forward  with  the  lantern.  Webb  fol- 
lowed close  at  his  heels.  Both  were  fearless,  determined, 
bent  upon  clearing  up  a  mystery  which  had  baffled  them 
before. 

They  got  through  the  dense  shrubbery,  and  reached 
that  point  from  which  the  mysterious  light,  if  it  did  not 


62  THE   LIGHT  AGAIN. 

move  from  the  original  position,  would  again  become 
visible. 

"As  I  expected,"  declared  Webb,  as  they  paused  and 
stared  blankly  ahead.  For  the  object  of  their  quest  was 
no  longer  visible.  Only  darkness,  and  that  of  the  blackest 
sort,  lay  before  them. 

"  Of  course,  it  disappeared,"  Philip  impatiently  re- 
plied. And  added: 

"  We'll  see  where  it  went  to,  however,  and  at  short 
notice.  Come." 

The  twain  advanced  side  by  side. 

The  way  was  very  rough,  and  they  were  obliged  to 
proceed  with  caution.  They  presently  found  their  fur- 
ther progress  barred  by  a  perpendicular  rock,  that  rose 
fully  twenty  feet  above  their  heads, 

"  This  is  as  far  as  we  can  go  in  this  direction,"  "Webb 
declared. 

"  This  is  the  exact  point  from  which  the  light  shone, 
isn't  it? "  Philip  questioned. 

"  I  should  say  it  was." 

"  Then  the  spook,  if  it  is  one,  is  rather  close  to  us  I 
fancy  that  we  can  solve  this  mystery  if  we  stay  here  long 
enough.  Whoever  is  playing  this  pretty  trick  will  get 
tired  of  hiding,  and  if  we  stay  here  till  daylight  we'll 
have'a  chance  then  to  find  where  he  keeps  himself.  But 
to  begin  with  we'll  carry  out  my  original  purpose.  You 
or  I  will  return  to  the  path.  Which  shall  it  be?  The 
one  who  stays  here  will  keep  the  lantern." 

"I'll  stay.  Mr.  Temple,"  Webb  declared,  with  quiet 
decisiveness. 

"Had  you  rather?" 

"  Yes.  I  guess  I  can  handle  the  spook  easier  than  you 
could,  if  he  happened  to  be  muscular.  I  ain't  very  slow 
in  a  tussle,"  the  young  farmer  said. 

He  was,  indeed,  a  powerfully  built  fellow,  and  with 
muscles  hardened  by  toil,  he  would  not  be  a  safe  man  to 
attack.  Besides,  he  possessed  a  degree  of  coolness  which 
Philip  Temple  envied.  Although  sufficiently  resolute, 


THE  LIGHT  AGAIN.  63 

he  could  not  repress  a  feeling  of  intense  anxiety  con- 
cerning the  result  of  their  bold  investigation. 

"  If  you  want  my  help,  call,"  Temple  said,  as  he 
turned  to  retrace  his  steps.  He  abruptly  paused  and 
added: 

"  If  I  see  two  lights  I  shall  know  one  of  them  is  your 
lantern." 

"  Yes,  and  I'll  h'ist  mine  up  and  down,  so  that  you'll 
know  which  it  is,"  the  other  returned. 

Philip  picked  his  way  cautiously  over  the  rugged 
rocks  and  through  the  dense  shrubbery.  Reaching  the 
path,  he  turned  to  look  back.  At  the  same  time  he 
caught  the  sound  of  a  hasty  exclamation  from  his  com- 
panion. 

To  his  consternation,  no  light  was  visible. 

"What  is  it,  Webb?"  Philip  shouted,  thrilled  by  a 
vague  alarm. 

There  was  no  response,  yet,  at  that  moment,  a  light 
appeared  at  the  paint  at  which  he  had  left  Jason  and  the 
lantern. 

"Are  you  all  right?  I  can  see  only  one  light;  is  that 
yours?"  Temple  again  shouted,  louder  than  before. 

Was  it  imagination?  Or  did  he  hear  a  muffled 
response?  Why  did  not  his  companion  answer  plainly? 
Had  anything  happened  to  him? 

Once  more  the  young  man  called: 

"Jason  Webb — speak!" 

He  listened  intently  for  a  response.  It  was  raining 
heavily  again;  the  drip,  drip  of  water  from  the  foliage 
sounded  near  him;  at  a  little  distance  a  small  mountain 
stream,  formed  by  the  heavy  rain,  splashed  and  gurgled. 
These,  and  only  these,  sounds  were  audible. 

A  sudden  suspicion  dawned  upon  Philip's  active 
brain.  "Thinks  to  frighten  me,  does  he?"  he  audibly 
exclaimed.  "Who  knows  but  this  sharp  young  farmer 
is  at  the  bottom  of  the  whole  hoax?  If  he  is,  I  shall  let 
him  laugh  at  me,  that's  all.  But  he  seemed  to  be  in 
earnest  Only  he  was  pretty  cooL  These  country 


64:  THE  LIGHT  AGAIN. 

people  usually  have  superstitious  notions,  and  don't  fancy 
this  sort  of  a  trick.  I'll  know  the  truth,  at  all  events. 
I  won't  be  laughed  at  for  cowardice,  if  I  am  for  my 
pains." 

Philip  once  more  pushed  his  way  through  the  dense 
shrubbery.  He  had  an  umbrella,  but  among  the  bushes 
he  could  only  use  it  as  a  cane,  with  which  to  feel  his  way, 
and  in  consequence  he  was  already  drenched  to  the  skin. 

He  got  through  the  bushes  once  more,  and  looked  for 
the  lignt. 

It  was  gone. 

Again  Temple  experienced  a  thrill  akin  to  fear,  yet  he 
did  not  flinch. 

"  Hoax  or  not,  I'll  not  be  frightened  away,"  he  mut- 
tered. 

He  groped  his  way  forward,  and  reached  the  perpen- 
dicular wall  of  rock.  As  he  did  so  his  foot  came  in 
contact  with  a  yielding  body.  He  stopped,  and  with  a 
sensation  of  intense  horror,  discovered  that  the  form  of  a 
man  lay  prostrate  at  his  feet. 

To  strike  a  match  was  but  the  work  of  an  instant,  and 
a  tiny  point  of  light  fell  upon  the  upturned  face  of  Jason 
Webb! 


LOVE  IS  BLIND.  65 

CHAPTER  XI. 

LOVE   IS   BLIND. 

"Love  is  blind,  and  lovers  cannot  see." 

— /Sfiakspeare. 

"  Where  did  Alma  go  so  suddenly?"  Roy  Blanchard 
questioned,  abruptly  rising  from  the  crouching,  posture 
in  which  he  had  been  submitting  to  Lou  Wentworth's 
unique  decorations. 

"You  might  institute  a  search  for  her,"  .the  other  de- 
murely suggested.  Her  face  was  daintily  flushed;  it 
seemed  to  have  taken  on  a  brighter,  sweeter  radiance 
than  it  usually  wore. 

"A  good  idea,"  Roy  returned.  With  clematis  and 
evergreens  pendent  from  his  hat  and  shoulders,  his  ap- 
pearance was  decidedly  grotesque.  But  no  amount  of 
absurdity  in  garb  could  detract  an  iota  from  his  manly 
beauty.  He  looked  like  the  prince  in  some  fairy  tale, 
with  the  golden  sunset  light  atremble  upon  his  fine  face, 
and  lending  a  deeper  bronze  to  his  beard. 

He  started,  as  though  to  begin  the  quest  at  once. 
Then  he  looked  back  with  a  smile  and  said  : 

"  Come,  Lou." 

"Where?" 

"  In  search  of  Miss  Burton." 

"Do  you  really  wish  to  find  her? " 

"  Of  course." 

"  Then  I'll  go  back.  You  can't  expect  to  charm  us 
both  at  the  same  time." 

There  was  the  old  flash  of  resentment  in  her  tones,  and 
she  turned  away. 

He  was  at  her  side  in  a  moment,  and  gazing  down 
upon  her  with  genuine,  tender  pleading  in  his  eyes. 

"  Don't  say  that,  dearest !  "  he  exclaimed. 

"Who  gave  you  the  right  to  call  me  that?"  she  re- 
torted. 

"A  power  that  bestows  the  right  on  whom  it  belongs." 
5 


66  LOVE  IS  BLIND. 

"Ah!  and  will  you  kindly  tell  me  what  power  it  is 
that  favors  you  so  greatly  ? " 

"  The  power  of  love." 

"  Love!  "    Lou  laughed  a  trifle  scornfully. 

"Love  for  yourself,  or  for  Alma?"  she  questioned, 
looking  him  fully  in  the  face. 

"  You  are  cruel  to  say  that,"  he  returned.  He  cast  a 
hasty  glance  about  them,  and  then  bent  his  head  until 
his  beard  touched  her  cheek. 

"Do  you  really  think  I  care  for  Alma  Burton?"  he 
asked. 

"  I  hope  so,"  she  replied,  without  looking  at  him. 

"You  hope  I  do?" 

"  Yes." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  you  have  made  her  care  for  you.  Do  you 
think  it  is  right  to  win  a  prize  merely  for  the  zest  of  the 
pursuit,  and  then  cast  it  off  ?" 

"  No,  I  do  not  think  it  is  right.  It  is  a  monstrous 
wrong." 

There  was  a  suppressed  vehemence  in  his  tones,  for 
which  Lou  could  not  account. 

She  looked  cautiously  up  into  his  face.  But  his  glance 
was  fixed  upon  the  deepening  shadows,  and  she  could 
read  nothing  there. 

"  So  do  I,"  she  said,  speaking  slowly.  There  was  a 
period  of  silence — a  silence  full  of  vague  meaning  to 
each.  Was  there  an  unconscious  misunderstanding  be- 
tween them,  or  was  Roy  Blanchard  fickle,  as  he  seemed  ? 

"  We  seem  to  agree  pretty  well,  in  the  matter  of  theory 
and  principal,"  he  declared,  at  length,  with  an  odd  smile. 

"  I  don't  understand.  I  was  not  aware  that  we  were 
discussing  ethics,"  she  returned. 

"  I  was,  if  you  were  not.  I  suppose  your  coincidence 
of  opinion  was  merely  an  evidence  of  your  good  nature 
— your  desire  to  please.  I  can  hardly  believe  that  you 
really  agree  with  me  in  this  matter." 

"  I  wish  you  would  be.  a  little  more  plain,  Mr,  Blanch. 


LOVE  IS  BLIND.  67 

ard.    Your  gravity  is  a  trifle  appalling,  in  view  of  my 
ignorance  of  what  it  is  all  about." 

"  "We  were  speaking  of  winning  prizes  only  to  cast 


you  suggested  the  subject,  but  perhaps  you  were  think, 
ing  of  something  else  at  the  time." 

"  Oh,  yes."  She  laughed  then,  perhaps  to  hide  some 
other  emotion. 

""We  settled  that  question,  did  we  not?"  she  added. 

"  Yes.  As  I  said,  we  agreed  upon  theory.  But  I 
fear  that  you  believe  as  I  do  out  of  deference  rather  than 
from  your  heart.  Certainly,  in  practice  you  sadly  con- 
tradict your  declared  principle." 

"  So  you  think  I'm  not  sincere?"  she  asked,  looking  up 
at  him.  There  was  a  peculiar  light  in  her  eyes.  It 
strongly  resembled  repressed  anger. 

"  I  fear  you  are  not.  If  you  are,  then  you  are  fickle. 
I  believe  I  had  rather  have  you  the  latter,  for  insincerity 
in  a  woman  is  the  worst  of  attributes — worse  than  an 
ugly  temper." 

This  was  deliberately  spoken,  as  though  he  were  play- 
ing a  card  upon  which  a  game  was  to  be  won  or  lost. 

She  stepped  quickly  away  from  him  and  then  paused, 
facing  him,  in  a  pretty,  spirited  attitude.  Her  arms 
were  flung  upward,  and  her  white  fingers  clasped  above 
her  head.  In  the  gathering  gloom  she  looked  like  a 
statue  which  Roy  had  once  seen  in  a  gallery  of  art. 

"What  a  moralist  you  are,  to  be  sure!"  she  cried 
"  Do  you  know,"  she  added,  with  fine  sarcasm,  "  that 
you  used  the  Jvery  phrases,  just  now,  that  I  once  heard 
from  the  lips  of  a  very  good  preacher?  Perhaps  you 
heard  the  same  sermon.  But  I  had  rather  not  believe 
you  a  plagiarist.  Such  fine  sentiments  lose  their  force 
when  sounded  by  an  echo." 

It  was  Roy's  turn  to  show  irritation.  He  was  sensi- 
tive, and  her  scorn  stung  him  keenly.  He  looked  at  her 
in  silence  for  a  moment.  But  he  repressed  the  sharp  re- 
tort that  rose  to  his  lips. 


68  LOVE  18   BLIND. 

"  I  saw  you  weeping  the  other  day  for  a  cause  that  im- 
pelled me  to  admire  you  more  than  ever  before,"  he 
slowly  said.  She  looked  at  him,  smiling,  and  he  went 
on,  in  the  same  measured  tone: 

"  A  swallow,  sailing  swiftly  over  the  house,  encoun- 
tered a  telephone  wire  in  its  flight,  and  fell  upon  the 
ground  with  a  broken  wing,  you  saw  it,  and  expressed 
true  feminine  sympathy  for  the  unfortunate  creature. 
And  then,  when  Mr.  Boynton  took  it  up  and  with  cold 
mercy  put  it  out  of  its  misery,  I  saw  tears  in  your  eyes — 
tears  which  must  have  been  prompted  by  tenderness." 

He  paused  again.     Then  he  added: 

"  And  yet  you  seem  to  delight  in  inflicting  pain  upon 
me." 

"  You  are  not  a  swallow,"  she  said,  with  rigid  iciness. 
"  And  I  am  not  worthy  so  much  consideration  as  even  a 
single  sparrow?" 

"  Oh,  yes — rather  more,  I  think.  But  you're  not  so 
defenseless.  If  you  were  I  might  weep  for  you — at 
least,  I'm  sure  I  should  if  you  new  against  a  telephone 
wire  and  broke  a  wing." 

He  did  not  smile,  and  she  exclaimed: 

"  Don't  be  so  solemn,  Mr.  Blanchard.  "We  can  at  least 
be  friendly,  can't  we?" 

"  Yes,  we  can  be  friendly,"  he  answered  in  an  altered 
voice.  "  And  as  friends,"  he  added,  "  we  will  try  and 
find  Alma.  I'm  almost  alarmed  about  her.  And  see — 
it  is  going  to  rain  again." 

He  drew  her  hand  within  his  arm  unresisted,  and  in 
silence  they  turned  down  a  narrow  path  that  led  to  the 
zigzag  road. 

"So  you  think  Alma  likes  me?"  he  presently  ques- 
tioned. 

"  Doesn't  your  vanity  tell  you?"  she  returned. 

"  I  have  no  vanity." 

"  I  beg  pardon — I  know  better,  of  course.  I  dare  say 
you  fancy  yourself  a  sort  of  a  Caliban,  too  ugly  to  be 


LOVE  18  BLIND.  69 

looked  upon  without  causing  sensations  of  repulsion  in 
the  beholder.     Of  course  you  are  not  vain." 

Her  irony  sounded  good  natured  at  least,  and  he 
laughed  in  response. 

"  You  overrate  my  modesty,"  he  said.  "  I  really  am 
aware  that  I'm  tremendously  good  looking.  Sometimes 
I've  doubted,  but  I  have  consulted  my  barber  and  my 
tailor  upon  the  subject,  and  they  swear  that  I'm  their  hand- 
somest customer.  Thus  am  I  reassured.  Yet,  when  I'm 
with  the  ladies,  I  find  that  they  shrink  from  me  when- 
ever I  make  the  least  approach  to  seriousness.  They  like 
me  to  make  wit  for  them ;  but  I'm  an  ogre  when  I  grow 
sentimental." 

"  Now  you  excite  my  compassion,"  Miss  "Wentworth 
demurely  remarked. 

"  I  knew  I  should.  You  see,  this  condition  of  things 
keeps  up  a  terrible  strain  upon  that  portion  of  my  brain 
which  manufactures  wit." 

"  I  beg  pardon,"  she  interrupted. 

"What  is  it?" 

"  You  are  mistaken  in  a  point  of  phrenology,  I'm  afraid. 
I  have  been  told  that  wit  doesn't  come  from  the  brain. 
It  is  said  to  be  spontaneous,  like  sneezing." 

Roy  laughed  at  this,  so  heartily  that  his  companion 
joined  in  the  outburst  of  mirth. 

"  Who  told  you  that? "  he  asked. 

"  I  think  I  read  it.  Or  perhaps  it  was  my  wit  that 
prompted  the  fancy." 

"  Then  I  shall  not  credit  the  theory.  I  had  rather  be- 
lieve that  my  brain  is  capable  of  something." 

"It  is  a  pleasing  delusion  isn't  it?"  she  returned, 
sympathetically. 

"  To  me  it  is." 

He  then  held  up  his  hand,  with  a  glance  at  the  darken- 
ing clouds. 

"  It  is  beginning  to  rain,"  he  declared. 

"  And  here  is  Alma,"  Lou  exclaimed,  as  a  tall,  grace- 
ful figure  came  toward  them. 


70  LOVE  is 

"I — I  feared  I  was  lost!"  she  breathlessly  cried,  ag 
she  came  up  to  them.  "  I  have  been  wandering  about 
for  half  an  hour,  and  I  began  to  think  I  had  gotten  a 
long  way  from  the  hotel.  Is  it  far? "  she  asked. 

"  They  could  hear  you  there  if  you  should  shout,"  Hoy 
replied. 

"  We  were  looking  for  you,"  he  added,  "  but  would 
have  given  up  the  search  in  a  moment  more." 

"  And  left  me  to  perish  in  the  storm  ? "  she  plaintively 
questioned. 

"  No,  not  that.  Lou  might  have  done  so,  but  I  would 
not.  I  should  have  looked  for  you  at  break  of  day." 

They  hastened  toward  the  house,  for  the  rain  began 
falling  in  huge  drops. 

They  separated  upon  the  veranda,  and  entered  at  dif- 
ferent doors. 

"We  are  friends?"  Roy  found  opportunity  to  ask,  as 
he  lingered  an  instant  in  the  hall. 

"  Yes,"  Lou  answered.  And  then  Mrs.  Boynton  came 
along,  and  Roy  hastily  left  them. 

"  Did  you  see  nothing  of  Chester? "  Tracy  questioned, 
as  her  friend  drew  her  into  an  adjacent  room. 

"  No.     Then  he  has  not  returned? " 

"  He  has  not  returned,"  the  young  wife  echoed. 

Even  as  she  spoke,  the  sound  of  excited  voices  in  the 
hall  caused  them  to  listen  in  vague  alarm. 


MALICIOUS    MuO££fiV.  71 


CHAPTER  XII. 

VAIN,  MALICIOUS  MOCKERY. 

"It  is  as  the  air,  invulnerable, 

And  our  vain  blows  malicious  mockery. 

— Shakspeare. 

"Heavens!  he  is  dead!"  Philip  Temple  exclaimed,  as 
his  gaze  fell  upon  the  pale,  upturned  face  of  Jason  "Webb. 
At  the  same  time  the  assertion  was  contradicted,  how- 
ever; for  the  form  moved,  and  as  the  match  went  out  the 
young  farmer  opened  his  eyes. 

"No,  I  ain't  dead!"  he  declared,  rather  faintly. 
"Help  me  up,  and  we'll  get  out  of  this  place!"  he 
addea. 

Temple  complied  without  uttering  a  word.  "Webb 
leaned  heavily  upon  his  arm,  but  they  managed  to  work 
their  way  back  to  the  path. 

"  Now  let  me  rest  a  bit,"  Jason  said,  breathlessly. 

He  seated  himself  upon  the  wet  ground,  with  his  back 
against  a  small  tree.  Then  1'hilip  found  voice  to  speak. 

"  Tell  me  what  happened? "  he  eagerly  questioned. 

"  I  was  knocked  down — that's  all! "  was  the  terse  re- 
sponse. 

"And  your  lantern  ?" 

"  Smashed,  same  as  Jim  Rice's  was.  Only  he  hung 
onto  a  part  of  his'n,  and  I  didn't." 

They  were  silent  a  moment.  The  water  dripped  upon 
them,  and  around  them.  Philip  glanced  toward  the  spot 
of  mj^stery.  With  a  shudder,  he  saw  the  mysterious,  tan^ 
tilizing  light,  bright,  fixed,  inviting  their  investigation. 

" Is  it  there?"  Webb  asked. 

"  Yes." 

"  I've  half  a  mind  to  go  back  there,  and  let  'em  try 
that  trick  over  ag'in!  "  the  young  farmer  exclaimed. 

"  I  wouldn't  if  I  were  you." 

"  Going  to  give  it  up  ? " 

"Your  not  strong  enough  to  do  more  to-night.  "What 


72  VAIN,  MALICIOtJS    MOCKERY. 

ever  or  whoever  the  being  may  be,  it  has  a  decided  advan- 
tage over  us,  and  I  don't  like  to  run  unnecessary  risks. 
"We'll  try  again  sometime,  with  more  to  help  us.  We 
will  merely  postpone  our  investigations  to  a  more  propi- 
tious time." 

"  Maybe  you're  right.  But  I  hate  to  give  up.  I  don't 
want  the  spook  to  laugh  at  me,  and  it  won't,  when  I  get 
through  with  it." 

Webb  rose  to  his  feet,  and  also  glanced  toward  the 
light.  It  still  blinked  through  the  interstices  of  the  in- 
tervening shrubbery. 

The  man  stooped,  groped  in  the  path  with  his  hand, 
and  then  stood  erect. 

"  I'm  going  to  heave  a  stone  at  the  darned  thing,  as  a 
parting  salute!"  he  exclaimed. 

He  suited  his  action  to  the  word.  The^ sharp  click  of  the 
missile  as  it  struck  the  perpendicular  rock  sounded"  dis- 
tinctly. And  the  light  disappeared! 

"  Put  his  eye  out,  didn't  1? "  Webb  exclaimed  trium- 
phantly. "  Now  I  guess  we'll  go  home.  I've  got  a 
bunch  on  my  head  growing  big's  a  hen's-egg."  he  added, 
as  they  started  toward  the  cottage. 

•"  Did  you  see  nothing  before  you  were  struck?  "  Tem- 
ple asked. 

"  Not  a  thing.  Whoever  played  the  trick  stood  be- 
hind, or  above  me,  I  can't  say  which." 

"  Was  there  anything  ghostly  about  it  ?" 

"  I  can't  say.  Never  had  any  personal  experience 
with  'em,  unless  this  is  a  ghost.  JBut  the  rap  I  received 
was  pretty  substantial." 

They  continued  to  discuss  the  remarkable  adventure 
until  they  reached  the  cottage.  And  there  they  were  re- 
ceived with  unmistakable  relief  by  Jenny,  who  had  grown 
white-faced  with  apprehension. 

There  the  subject  was  discussed  again  in  all  its  points. 
And  when  there  was  nothing  more  that  could  be  said  con- 
cerning it,  they  each  in  turn  related  ghost  stories  which 


VAIN,  MALICIOUS  MOCKERY.  73 

they  had  heard,  as  people  do  when  stimulated  by  a  fresh 
experience. 

In  the  morning  the  rain  had  ceased.  It  dawned  cool 
and  delightful,  and  Philip  Temple  was  out  in  good  season. 

He  accompanied  Webb  to  the  scene  of  their  late  adven- 
ture, and  there  they  found  the  broken  lantern,  just  as  it 
had  fallen  from  Jason's  hand.  The  glass  globe  was  shat- 
tered, arid  the  metal  considerably  dented. 
p;  "  They  hit  it  with  a  rock,  I  should  say,"  Temple  de- 
clared, after  a  careful  examination  of  the  implement. 

"  I  guess  they  hit  me  with  one,  too,"  declared  his  com- 
panion. 

They  proceeded  to  make  a  thorough  exploration  of  the 
premises.  But  without  significant  result. 

"  Nothing  here  in  daytime,  jest  as  I  told  you,"  Jason 
reiterated. 

"There  are  rocks,  and  plenty  of  thickets  to  serve  as 
hiding-places,"  Terrible  replied. 

"  Of  course  there  is.  But  they  don't  signify  anything. 
It's  the  spooks,  if  there  be  any,  that  we  want  to  catch." 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  really  care  to  catch  one,  if  that  is 
the  real  character  of  the  denizens  of  this  place." 

"  Perhaps  you're  right — I  guess  I  don't  neither."  Ja- 
son laughed  good  humoredly.  Just  then  they  were  star- 
tled by  the  sound  of  footsteps  in  the  path. 

"Hulloa — who  comes  now?"  the  young  farmer  ex- 
claimed. The  person  approaching  was  a  tall,  lank  indi- 
vidual, with  thin,  "  sandy  "  whiskers  and  moustache,  and 
very  large  eyes.  In  truth,  the  man's  eyes  were  the  most 
prominent  of  his  features.  "  Jim  Rice,  sure  as  I  live," 
Webb  declared,  as  they  came  forth  upon  the  path  and 
confronted  the  new-comer. 

There  was  no  introduction.  Temple  had  not  seen  this 
man  before,  yet  Rice  knew  the  former  to  be  his  neigh- 
bor's "  city  boarder." 

"  Looking  for  my  hoss,"  he  announced,  in  a  some- 
what nasal  tone. 

Temple  thought  he  ought  to  be  able  to  see  the  animal  if 


anybody  could,  with  such  eyes.    But  he  didn't  voice  this 
mental  comment. 

"  Lost  him?"  Jason  questioned. 

"Yes.  Jumped  out  of  the  pastur'  I  guess.  Found 
one  of  the  bars  broke  last  night.  Trackea  him  up  this 
way,  but  somehow  I  can't  see  what  become  of  him.  The 
ground  was  soft  yesterday,  you  know,  on  account  of  the 
rain,  and  I  ought  to  be  able  to  track  the  critter  if  I  ever 
could.  But  after  he  struck  this  path,  back  here  a  piece,  I 
can't  find  a  sign  of  a  hoof-print/' 

"  Wa .  he  shod  ?"  Webb  asked,  thoroughly  interested  in 
the  misfortune  of  his  neighbor. 

"  He  had  old  shoes  on,  the  corks  'bout  gone.  He  was 
sort  of  run  down  with  the  spring  and  summer  work,  you 
know,  so  I  thought  t'other  day  I'd  turn  him  out  for  a 
week  or  so.  But,  as  I  told  my  wife,  I'd  no  idea  the 
critter'd  got  life  eno  igh  left  to  try  to  get  out  of  the  pas- 
tur'. But  he's  gona  and  done  it.  And  it's  queer  he 
didn't  make  straight  for  the  barn.  I  didn't  s'pose  he'd 
go  out  of  sight  of  that  if  he  had  the  whole  county  to  range 
in." 

Jim  Rice  had  a  genuine  countryman's  prolixity  in  the 
narration  of  his  tale.  It  occurs  to  us  now,  that  country 
people  are  seldom  in  so  great  a  rush  in  anything  they  do 
as  even  the  most  indolent  of  our  city  residents  appear  to 
be. 

"  I've  seen  nothing  of  your  horse,  Jim — nor  his  tracks 
either,"  Jason  declared.  "  Maybe,"  he  added,  "  he's  got 
into  some  confounded  place  he  can't  get  out  of.  Pretty 
rough  in  some  places  along  the  side  of  the  mountain 
here." 

"  I'd  thought  of  that.  Like  enough  he's  broke  a  leg, 
or  his  neck.  Hope  it's  his  neck  if  either,  save  killing  the 
beast,"  said  Rice,  philosophically.  He  looked  askance  at 
Mr.  Temp'e,  who  had  occupied  himself  with  looking  along 
the  path  for  horse-tracks. 

"  He  been  that  'ere  light,  has  he?"  the  man  asked  in  a 


VAIN,   MALICIOUS    MoCKEftY.  75 

whisper,  which  was  as  plainly  audible  to  Philip  as  it  was 
to  Jason. 

"  Yes,  both  of  us  did,  last  night,"  the  other  replied. 

"Try  to  find  out  anything,  did  ye?" 

"  We  tried  a  little." 

"  What  did  ye  make  out? " 

"  Got  my  lantern  broke,  and  a  good  rap  on  my  head, 
that  laid  me  out  straighter'n  a  string  for  a  few  minutes." 

"  You  don't  say!  "  If  possible  Jim  Rice's  eyes  became 
fully  a  size  larger,  and  he  glanced  somewhat  apprehen- 
sively over  his  shoulder. 

"How  did  you  git  out  of  the  scrape?"  he  eagerly 
questioned. 

"  Mr.  Temple  was  with  me,  and  he  helped  me  back 
here  to  the  path.  Then  we  went  home." 

"  And  what  does  he  think  on't?  Or  don't  he  say?  He 
don't  look  likely  to  be  scare't  at  his  shadder.  Looks 
pretty  shrewd,  I  say." 

This  was  spoken  so  loud  that  Philip  accepted  it  as  an 
undoubted  compliment.  He  came  toward  them :  he  had 
something  in  his  hand. 

"  Here's  a  horse-shoe,  which  I  found  yonder,"  he  said. 

Rice  took  it,  examined  it  critically, and  then  exclaimed: 

"  That  came  off  my  horse's  left  fore-foot,  sure's  I  live. 
There's  where  I  filed  it,  t'other  day,  'cause  it  got  wore 
so  one-sided.  You've  got  sharp  eyes,  mister,  if  it  isn't 
rude  to  say  it." 

"  The  shoe  lay  upon  a  flat  rock.  There  were  no  tracks 
near  it.  Possibly  your  horse  has  taken  wings.  I  can't 
account  for  the  absence  of  tracks  in  any  other  way,'' 
Temple  said. 

"I've  seen  a  horse-^y,"  Jim  Rice  declared,  with  a 
shrewd  wink  at  Jason,  and  a  strong  emphasis  upon  the 
last  word  of  the  compound.  The  laugh  with  which  he 
greeted  his  own  wit  would  have  betrayed  the  joke,  even 
if  it  had  not  been  too  time-honored  to  create  surprise  on 
the  part  of  Philip. 

"  Excuse  my  joke — Jarson  knows  I'm  always  poking 


76  VAltf,   MALICIOUS    MOCKER*. 

fun,"  said  the  man,  apologetically.  At  the  same  time 
he  suddenly  sobered.  "  Yonder  comes  somebody — she's 
beckoning  to — you,  Mr.  Temple!  "  he  exclaimed. 

Philip  looked  in  the  direction  indicated,  and  saw  Tracy 
Boynton  a  short  distance  down  the  path.  She  was  beck- 
oning to  him,  as  Jim  Rice  had  said. 


FANCY'S  FOND  SUGGESTION.  77 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

FANCY'S  FOND  SUGGESTION. 

"  My  soul  to  fancy's  fond  suggestion  yields, 
And  roams  romantic  o'er  her  airy  fields." 

— Byron. 

As  Philip  advanced  he  saw  that  Mrs.  Boynton  was  not 
alone.  Lou  Wentworth  had  stepped  out  of  the  path  to 
gather  a  tuft  of  peculiar  moss  which  had  caught  her  eye. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "  he  asked,  a  trifle  alarmed,  for 
Tracy's  countenance  was  somewhat  pale. 

"  Nothing  serious — to  me,  at  least,"  she  replied,  with 
a  reassuring  smile.  "  But  an  accident  happened  to  Mr. 
Stacy,  a  member  of  the  fishing-party  with  whom  Chester 
went  yesterday,"  she  continued. 

"An  accident — serious?"  Philip  asked. 

"  Rather,  to  him.  It  might  have  been  to  them  all. 
They  went  with  a  team,  you  remember — there  were  four 
of  them.  The  place  is  some  ten  miles  from  here,  and  over  a 
rough,  somewhat  lonely  road.  As  they  were  starting  upon 
their  return,  their  horse  had  a  fit,  or  something,  and  ran 
them  over  an  embankment.  They  were  all  considerably 
bruised,  except  Chester.  He  is  always  fortunate,  and 
escaped  without  a  scratch.  And  Mr.  Stacy  broke  a  leg, 
and  waa  carried  to  a  house  near  by.  It  is  a  lonely  place, 
and  only  an  old  man  and  a  lame  boy  live  there.  So 
Chester  stayed  at  the  house  with  Stacy,  while  the  others 
took  the  man's  horse  and  came  on  to  the  village  for  the 
doctor,  and  thence  to  the  hotel.  Chester  sent  word  that 
he  should  stop  with  Stacy  for  a  few  days,  and  for  you  and 
me  to  come  and  keep  him  company.  He  says  it  would 
be  shabby  to  leave  Mr.  Stacy  among  total  strap  gers — 
they  say,  you  know,  that  he  hasn't  a  living  relation  in 
the  world — and  that  we  can  amuse  ourselves  there  for  a 
few  days  as  well  as  here.  It  will  be  genuine  rusticating, 
you  see," 


78  FANCY'S  FOND  SUGGESTION. 

Mrs.  Boynton  told  her  story  rapidly,  and  uninter- 
ruptedly 

"And  Mr.  Boynton  sent  for  me  to  come?"  Philip 
questioned. 

"  Yes — he  was  very  particular  about  that.  So  you 
see  he  has  taken  a  fancy  to  you,  after  all!  You  will  go?" 

"  Of  course,  I  shall  not  refuse  to  act  the  good  Sa- 
maritan. And  when  do  we  start?" 

"  Right  away,  or  as  soon  as  we  can  get  ready.  It 
won't  make  any  difference  with  the  Webbs,  will  it?  " 

"  I  think  not.  I've  paid  a  week's  board  in  advance, 
so  they'll  be  nothing  out  of  pocket,  at  any  rate."  He 
hesitated,  and  then  laughed. 

"  But  this  is  rather  a  sudden  change  of  base,"  he  ex- 
claimed. "  Such  changes  are  always  coming  to  me,  and 
they  doubtless  always  will.  I'm  the  son  of  mystery  and 
romance.'' 

He  went  back  to  acquaint  his  host  of  his  new  plans, 
and  then  returned  to  the  ladies. 

"  I  will  go  to  the  cottage  to  make  a  few  preparations," 
he  said. 

"  We  will  call  for  you  as  we  come  along,"  Lou  de- 
clared. "And  mind,''  she  said,  shaking  her  forefinger 
in  solemn  emphasis,  "  if  you  are  not  ready  when  we 
come  along  we  shall  go  on  and  leave  you." 

"And  who,  pray,  are  'we'?  "  Philip  questioned. 

"  Roy  Blancnard  and  Lou  are  to  go  with  us,  of  course," 
Tracy  replied. 

"  I  shall  be  ready  and  waiting  for  you  long  before  you 
arrive,"  said  Temple,  raising  his  hat  and  turning  away. 

"  We'll  investigate  this  mystery  in  a  few  days — I  won't 
abandon  it,  you  may  be  sure,"  he  said,  to  Jason,  as  he 
passed  the  latter,  wno  was  still  discussing  with  Rice  the 
subject  of  the  missing  horse. 

Philip  made  his  preparations  for  departure  with  a  zest 
that  was  strangely  keen.  The  depression  under  which 
he  had  labored  the  night  before  had  entirely  disappeared; 
and  when  the  open  beach-wagon,  containing  Roy,  Lou 


FANCY'S  FOND  SUGGESTION.  79 

and  Mrs.  Boynton  appeared,  he  had  been  impatiently 
waiting  for  half  an  hour. 

To  drive  over  a  country  road  upon  a  cool,  moist  morn- 
ing, with  the  sunshine,  sylvan  shade  and  bird-melody  all 
around,  is  to  enjoy  life  in  all  its  sweetness  and  beauty. 
And  when  charming,  vivacious  company  is  added,  what 
more  can  be  desired? 

The  horse  was  a  great,  clumsy  animal,  with  limbs  like 
small  logs  of  wood,  and  nearly  as  stiff,  and  they  lum- 
bered over  the  crooked  road  at  a  monotonously  measured 
pace.  Roy  applied  the  whip,  and  used  all  the  persuasive 
eloquence  at  his  command,  in  the  hope  to  induce  a  little 
quicker  pace  upon  the  level  portions  of  the  road. 

But  language  and  whip  were  alike  unappreciated  by 
the  beast. 

"  It  is  no  use — it  will  be  broad  noon  before  we  shall 
get  to  our  destination,"  Roy  exclaimed,  in  despair, 

"Chester  will  think  we've  wandered  from  the  right 
road,"  Tracy  remarked. 

"Or  that  we're  not  coming  at  all,"  suggested  Lou. 
And  yet  it  was  plain  that  she  was  not  very  unhappy,  for 
she  had  insisted  upon  sitting  with  Roy  on  the  front  seat, 
and  her  face  was  fairly  radiant  with  pleasure. 

Philip  sat  in  silence,  occasionally  glancing  into  the 
face  of  Mrs  Boynton  It  was  very  pleasant  to  have  her 
so  near  him,  and  he  permitted  himself  to  indulge  in  the 
contemplation  of  fanciful  impossibilities.  Had  he  not 
come  into  a  new  existence,  which  was  to  permit  him  to 
remain  always  by  the  side  of  this,  the  only  woman  he 
ever  loved? 

If  it  should  only  turn  out,  in  some  impossible  way, 
that  she  were  Tracy  Sherman  still,  and  that  they  were 
lovers,  living  in  a  dream,  as  of  oldl 

He  gazed  idly  at  the  green  trees  and  rock;/  pastures 
as  they  passed  them,  and  permitted  his  fancies  to  run 
riot.  All  the  while  Lou  and  Roy  were  chatting, 
exchanging  flashes  of  wit.  Yet  he  could  not  have  told 
a  word  spoken  by  either  of  them.  Their  speech  was  as 


80  FANCY'S  FOND  SUGGESTION. 

meaningless  as  the  twitter  of  birds  and  murmur  oi 
brooks.  The  earlier  absurd  fancies  passed,  and  uncon- 
sciously others  took  their  place.  What  if  Tracy  wert 
Chester  Boynton's  wife?  Could  they  not  be  lovers  still' 
Marriage  is  a  thing  of  earth;  love  is  from  heaven.  Shall 
the  lower  triumph  over,  and  crush  out,  the  higher?  Can- 
any  laws  of  man's  making  confine,  or  circumscribe  the 
higher,  sweeter  laws  of  God?  Can  he  not  love  Tracy 
Boynton,  if  he  wills  it — and  may  she  not  love  him,  if 
her  heart  so  prompts?  Would  not  her  marriage  to 
Chester  Boynton  be  the  error  of  which  she  is  guilty, 
rather  than  in  obeying  the  truer,  but  later  promptings  of 
her  heart?  Somehow,  Philip  constantly  thought  of  them 
as  unhappy  together.  He  could  not  analyze  nis  convic- 
tion; yet  it  was  none  the  less  strong.  It  was  not  a  wise 
match.  They  were  unsuited  to  each  other.  She  was 
imaginative,  artistic,  vivacious,  impulsive.  Mr.  Boynton 
was  practical,  analytical,  cool,  and  lacking  in  those  finer 
perceptions  that  characterized  his  beautiful  wife.  It  was 
an  unwise  choice  in  both;  both  were  unhappy,  and  their 
discontent  would  increase  as  the  years  passed.  How 
monstrous  that  Tracy  should  be  unhappy  all  her  life 
time  with  tins  man,  when  he  could  have  rendered  her 
existence  one  long,  sweet  dream. 

All  this,  and  much  more  flitted  through  the  brain  of 
Philip  Temple.  It  is  doubtful  if  he  realized  the  true 
character  of  his  own  reflections.  Peihaps  he  only  in- 
dulged them,  as  we  are  all.  too  prone  to  indulge  wild, 
wanton  fancies — without  thinking  that  they  were  dan- 
gerous, like  the  delicious  intoxications  of  Lasheesh.  We 
believe  that  the  true  secret  of  living  uprightly  lies  in  the 
habit  of  control  and  training  of  one's  own  imagination. 
Men  think  of  wrong  doing — permit  their  idle  thoughts  to 
linger  upon  sinful  possibilities  which  they  have  no 
thought  of  ever  realizing,  and  thus  is  the  soul's  integrity 
lost.  The  temptation  comes ;  the  dream  becomes  a  real- 
ity ;  and  at  last  the  world  knows  what  God  has  known  all 


FANCY'S  FOND  SUGGESTION,  81 

along — that  he  who  was  thought  to  be  good,  was  really 
evil. 

Once  or  twice  Tracy  spoke,  and  then  Philip  responded, 
and  idle  remarks  were  exchanged.  Yet  these  did  not  in- 
terrupt the  train  of  his  own  reflections.  They  ran  on 
and  on,  unmindful  of  time  and  distance. 

.But  he  was  aroused  at  last — in  a  rather  startling 
manner.  The  vehicle  came  abruptly  to  a  halt,  and  Hoy 
Blanchard  spoke. 

"  I'm  going  to  find  out  where  we  arc  before  we  go  an- 
other yard ! "  lie  exclaimed. 

They  were  at  a  narrow  point  of  the  road,  and  before 
them  lay  a  steep  hill.  In  truth,  the  way  had  constantly 
grown  more  hilly,  and  the  road  less  frequented  in  appear- 
ance as  they  proceeded. 

But  here  was  a  house.  A  small,  wood-colored  dwell- 
ing, with  a  big  barn  close  by,  and  a  flock  of  turkeys 
chattering  and  gobbling  in  the  yard. 

"On  the  wrong  road,  are  we?"  Philip  exclaimed, 
aroused  from  his  reverie. 

Mrs.  Boynton  started,  and  glanced  at  him  in  a  half  be- 
wildered fashion.  Of  what  had  she  been  thinking?  he 
asked  himself. 

"  We've  been  on  the  road  for  about  three  hours,"  Roy 
declared,  deliberately  alighting  from  the  vehicle. 

"  It  is  now  nearly  one  o'clock  p.  m.,"  he  added,  glanc- 
ing at  his  watch,  "  and  we  ought  to  have  walked  the  dis- 
tance in  two  hours." 

"I  know  we're  lost!"  Lou  exclaimed,  in  ludicrous  dis- 
may. Her  blue  eyes  looked  from  face  to  face  of  her  com  • 
panions. 

"  We  shall  have  a  delightful  time  finding  each  other, 
at  any  rate,"  laughed  Roy. 

"What  I'm  thinking  of,"  he  continued,  "  is  the  possi- 
bility of  losing  my  dinner  This  country  style  of  eating 
has  got  me  in  a  terrible  condition,  and  if  I  don't  have 
dinner  promptly  at  twelve  meridian  I  feel  as  though  I 
was  friendless,  as  it  were. 

6 


82  FANCY'S  FOND  SUGGESTION. 

"  There  are  lots  of  blueberries  beside  the  road,"  Lou 
declared,  as  though  she  were  figuring  upon  the  possibility 
of  their  being  compelled  to  subsist  upon  this  diminutive 
fruit  for  an  indefinite  length  of  time. 

"  Horse-chestnuts,  too, — only  they're  not  ripe,"  Mrs. 
Boynton  demurely  suggested. 

" They  aren't  good  to  eat,  are  they?"  Lou  seriously 
returned. 

"  They  are  good  for  horses,  I  suppose.  At  least,  it  is 
said  they  used  to  grind  the  nuts  for  them,  years  ago." 
This  piece  of  information  came  from  Philip. 

At  this  moment  they  espied  a  man  in  shirt-sleeves 
coming  down  from  the  barn. 

Roy  greeted  him  with  something  of  a  flourish. 

"  This  is  not  Mr.  Gridley — is  it  ? "  he  questioned,  defer- 
entially. 

"  Hope  not,"  the  man  retorted,  with  some  vehemence. 

"  D'ye  think  1  looked  like  him  ? "  he  demanded,  with 
a  grimace;  "  'cause  if  you  did,  I'd  go  straight  and  shoot 
myself,  sure's  I  live." 

it  was  evident  that  Hoy's  suggestion  was  taken  as  an 
insult  by  the  man  in  shirt-sleeves.  Gridley  was  the 
name  of  the  one  to  whose  dwelling  the  unfortunate 
Stacy  was  taken,  and  hence  it  was  his  dwelling  of  which 
our  friends  were  in  quest. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  Roy  hastened  to  say^  "  I  never 
saw  Mr.  Gridley,  and  consequently  could  not  have  mis- 
taken you  for  him.  But  it  is  his  house  which  we  wish 
to  find.  I  infer  that  you  know  where  he  lives?" 

The  man  laughed  loudly,  slapping  his  knees  with  his 
hands  in  the  excessiveness  of  his  mirth. 

"Why,  man!  "  he  exclaimed,  controling  himself,  "you 
ain't  within  eight  mild  of  Gridley's!  Ho,  ho!  This 
here  ain't  the  right  road,  and  you're  headed  in  the  wrong 
direction." 

Roy  and  Lou,  and  Philip  and  Tracy  looked  at  each 
other  in  consternation. 


THE  STREAM  OF  DESTINY.  83 


CHAPTER  XIY. 

THE   STREAM   OF   DESTINY. 

"But  who  can  torn  the  stream  of  destiny?" 

—Spenser. 

"  "We're  almost  as  far  from  our  destination  as  we  were 
when  we  started,"  Miss  Wentworth  exclaimed,  breaking 
the  dismayed  pause. 

"And  no  prospect  of  dinner,"  supplemented  Roy, 
feebly. 

"  Perhaps  this  man  *  puts  up '  in  such  an  emergency 
as  this,"  Philip  suggested,  but  not  audibly  to  the  pocsi- 
ble  host. 

"Are  we  sure  that  it  would  not  be  a  greater  misfortune 
to  us  if  he  should  consent  to  feed  us,  than  if  he  refused?" 
Tracy  inquired,  glancing  critically  at  the  man's  shirt- 
sleeves, which  were  not  of  the  whitest.  The  object  of 
this  discussion  slouched  nearer,  evidently  suspicious  that 
he  was  entitled  to  know  what  they  were  saying. 

"  How  far  are  we  from  the  hotel  on  the  mountain — 
the  Yinton  Retreat,  as  it  is  called?"  Roy  questioned. 

"From  there,  be  ye?"  the  man  returned,  eyeing  them 
with  new  interest. 

"  City  boarders,  eh?"  he  added. 
«  Yes." 

"  Lot  of  'em  stopping  there,  I  hear.  The  man  that 
runs  the  place,  Caleb  Yinton,  lived  in  the  house  yonder 
when  he  was  a  boy.  Now  he's  rich — made  his  money 
off  city  chaps  like  you,  I  expect."  There  was  unmis- 
takable spite  in  this  declaration.  There  was  a  pause. 
"  You  wanted  to  know  how  fur  'tis  from  here  to  Yin- 
ton's?"  he  said,  as  though  it  had  but  just  occurred  to 
him  that  he  had  been  asked  a  question. 

"  I  had  some  curiosity  to  know  how  far  we  had  trav- 
eled," Roy  replied. 
"  Fifteen  mild,  /  call  it.    Some  say  it's  sixteen     That 


84:  THE   STKEAM  OF   DESTINY. 

hoss'll  never  take  you  back  there  'thout  resting  up  a  bit. 
Pretty  good  load,  four  on  ye,  though  the  wimmen  are 
light,  I  should  say.  Married  folks,  be  ye?" 

"Yes."  Roy  uttered  the  falsehood  with  a  brazen  face, 
and  refused  to  see  the  energetic  pantomime  of  Lou 
"Wentworth,  or  her  furious  frowns. 

"  I  don't  see  but  we  shall  have  to  ask  you  to  accommo- 
date us  with  a  lunch,  and  a  little  feed  for  our  horse, 
Mr. 1  forget  your  name?" 

"  Massy  sakes ! — I  couldn't  do  it — my  woman,  you 
know — not  prepared — bate  yer  horse,  but — ': 

The  man's  remonstrance  was  all  dashes,  and  he  began 
stepping  about  as  though  excessively  flustered. 

But  with  an  assumption  of  deafness,  Roy  turned  to 
the  wagon  and  reached  up  his  arms  to  assist  Lou  to 
alight. 

"  He  says  he  can't  accommodate  us,"  ghe  exclaimed, 
drawing  back. 

"  He'll^hink  better  of  it  when  Mr.  Temple  and  I  show 
our  pocket-books,"  Roy  replied,  with  provoking  gravity. 
Philip  had  alighted,  and  was  assisting  Tracy  to  do  so. 
Therefore  Lou  had  to  drown  her  scruples  and  yield  to  the 
inevitable. 

The  farmer,  seeing  there  was  no  escape,  hastened 
toward  the  house  to  warn  his  "  woman "  — for  some 
reason  countrymen  of  his  stamp  seem  to  have  a  stubborn 
antipathy  to  the  term  wife,  when  speaking  of  their  better- 
halves.  "We  wonder  why? 

Roy  led  the  horse  toward  the  big  barn  before  alluded 
to.  rhilip  followed  the  vehicle,  intent  upon  rendering 
assistance  in  putting  up  the  horse.  Tracy  and  Lou 
moved  with  faltering  steps  toward  the  house. 

Mr.  Skelton,  which  proved  later  to  be  •  the  name  of 
their  involuntary  host,  presently  appeared,  and  hustled 
toward  them. 

"  Go  right  into  the  house,"  he  exclaimed,  hospitably. 
"My  woman'll  see  to  ye.  Make  yourselves  to  home. 
We're  poor  folks,  and  don't  often  have  a  chance  to  enter 


THE  STREAM  OF  DESTItfY.  85 

tain  grand  people,  but  we'll  do  the  best  we  can.  My 
woman  says  you'll  have  to  put  up  with  the  best  we've 
got,  and  call  it  good  enough." 

They  complied  with  his  invitation  without  hesitation. 
At  the  door  they  were  met  by  a  stout,  red-faced  woman, 
whose  eyes  were  small  and  blinked  very  rapidly,  as 
though  she  were  afraid  of  getting  dust  into  them.  Her 
hair  was  in  a  "  pug,"  and  decidedly  frowzy  about  her 
forehead;  and  the  calico  gown  which  she  wore  was  faded 
to  a  most  uncertain  hue  and  figure. 

Tracy  and  Lou  were  ushereu  into  a  meagerly  furnished 
room,  which,  however,  was  evidently  the  best  in  the 
house.  The  walls  were  adorned  by  colored  lithographs 
in  square  frames ;  and  the  apartment  was  pervaded  by  a 
musty  odor,  as  though  it  were  kept  closed  to  air  and  sun- 
light except  upon  special  occasions,  like  the  present. 

Mrs.  Skelton  rather  hastily  disposed  of  shade-hats  and 
wraps,  and  then  precipitately  tumbled  photograph  albums 
and  stereoscopic  views  into  the  laps  of  her  guests. 

"  You  can  be  lookin'  them  over  while  I'm  gettin'  din- 
ner," she  declared,  and  in  another  moment,  like  a  mist, 
she  had  vanished. 

It  turned  out  that,  in  stopping  at  this  house  for  enter- 
tainment, they  had  not  been  wholly  unfortunate.  The 
dinner,  promiscuously  served  though  it  was,  was  abund- 
ant and  wholesome. 

"  Treat  ye  rather  better  at  this  time  of  year  than  if 
you'd  come  in  on  us  sudden  in  dead  of  winter,"  Mr. 
Skelton  declared  at  the  well-spread  table,  after  his 
"  woman  "  had  made  the  customary  excuses.  "  Plenty  of 
green  sass  in  the  garden  helps  along  when  a  body  don't 
live  nigh  a  village  and  market.  My  woman  and  I  'bout 
live  on't  from  the  time  it  comes  along  till  the  frosts 
come." 

The  guests  keenly  enjoyed  the  novelty  of  the  situation. 
The  Skeltons,  who  had  only  been  informed  of  Phillip's 
and  Roy's  names,  addressed  Tracy  and  Lou  as  Mrs. 
Temple  and  Mrs.  Blanchard,  which  error  could  only  be 


86  THE  STREAM  OF  DESTINY. 

explained  by  declaring  the  falsity  of  Roy's  declaration. 

After  all,  what  did  it  matter?  "  It  is  as  it  should  be!  " 
Philip  reflected.  He  sat  beside  Mrs.  Boynton  at  the 
table.  The  fancies  which  he  had  indulged  during  the 
long  ride  hither  were  resumed,  although  he  frequently 
took  part  in  the  conversation.  He  glanced  at  Tracy 
more  than  once;  and  marked,  with  a  thrill,  that  her  pal- 
lor which  he  had  noticed  in  the  morning  had  disap- 
peared. 

Her  face  was  daintily  flushed  now;  there  was  a  new, 
happy  light  in  her  eyes;  and  her  laughter  was  sweeter 
and  more  joyous  than  ever  before — it  seemed. 

The  evidence  of  her  pleasure  acted  upon  Philip  Tem- 
ple's senses  like  the  stimulus  of  new  wine. 

In  the  meanwhile  a  plan  of  procedure  had  been  agreed 
upon.  Mr.  Skelton  had  volunteered  to  drive  Roy  and 
Lou  back  to  the  hotel  with  his  team,  while  Philip  and 
Tracy  were  to  go  on  to  Gridley's  with  the  horse  which 
had  brought  them  hither. 

"  We  can  keep  along  together  till  we  get  to  the  road 
where  you  turn  off,"  Skelton  declared.  "  From  there 
it'll  be  a  straight  road,  so  you  can't  miss  your  way." 

This  was  addressed  to  Philip  and  Tracy. 

"  If  you  should  miss  your  way,  what  would  Mr. — " 

Lou's  remark  was  cut  short  by  a  look  from  Roy. 

"  Don't  betray  my  duplicity  at  this  late  hour  by  men- 
tioning that  she  is  going  to  see  her  husband,"  Jie  whis- 
pered, audibly  only  to  Lou.  "  For,  he  added,  "  they'll 
think  then  she  has  two  husbands — mormonism  reversed!" 

A  deeper  hue  had  mantled  Mrs.  Boynton's  face.  Philip 
noticed  that  all  she  said,  and  her  every  action,  were  seem- 
ingly mechanical,  as  though  her  thoughts  were  deeply 
absorbed. 

It  was  well  into  the  afternoon  before  they  were  once 
more  upon  the  road. 

Mr.  Skelton,  with  Roy  and  Lou  led  the  way,  with  the 
open  buggy  and  white  horse  belonging  to  the  farmer. 


THE  STREAM  Of  DESTINY.  87 

They  reached  the  road  which  branched  from  the  main 
hignway,  and  where  the  two  teams  must  separate. 

"  Keep  straight  ahead,"  Skelton  called  back,  as  they 
halted  for  a  moment  at  the  junction  of  roads.  "  It  ain  t 
more'n  five  mild  furder,  mostly  up-hill,  though,  git  there 
by  sundown.  Remember,  a  red  house  with  yellow  blinds. 
Only  one  like  it  within  ten  mild,  so  ye  can't  miss  it,  on- 
less  ye  shut  your  eyes.  G'lang  Sam!"  The  latter  to  the 
white  horse ;  and  with  the  silvery  adieu  of  Lou  and  Tracy 
sounding  upon  the  sweet,  still  air,  the  two  vehicles  sep- 
arated. And  even  the  sound  of  the  receding  clatter  of 
Skelton's  buggy  soon  died  away  as  Philip  and  his  com- 
panion went  further  upon  their  divergent  course. 

The  first  mile  was  passed  in  silence.  Philip  seemed 
occupied  with  driving;  while  Tracy  watched  the  trees, 
and  fields  as  they  flitted  by.  It  was  a  perfect  day.  The 
heat  of  the  sun  was  tempered  by  a  gentle,  yet  cool  breeze 
from  the  northwest.  There  was  a  num  of  insects  in  the 
air;  the  trees  rustled  and  nodded  as  they  passed;  birds 
twittered  and  sang,  in  the  same  happy  way  which  has 
been  theirs  for  thousands  of  years. 

Tracy  was  first  to  speak. 

"  I  fear  Chester  will  be  concerned  about  us,"  she  said. 

There  was  a  nervous  tremor  in  her  sweet  tones;  yet 
the  dainty  tints  upon  her  cheeks,  and  the  happy  light  in 
her  eyes  had  not  disappeared. 

"  So  you  were  thinking  of  him?"  Philip  questioned. 

The  words  were  prompted  by  a  sudden,  jealous  pang. 

"  It  is  time  he  was  thought  of,  isn't  it?" 

He  did  not  answer  at  once,  and  she  added: 

"  To  tell  the  truth,  I  have  scarcely  thought,  until  this 
moment,  that  he  must  greatly  wonder  at  our  non-appear- 
ance. I  doubt  not  that  he  is  worrying." 

"  Then  you  have  not  been  reflecting  upon  Mr.  Boynton's 
possible  misery  during  your  long  silence  ?"  Philip  per- 
sisted. 

There  was  an  eagerness  in  his  tones  that  caused  her  to 
ook  at  him  quickly. 


THE   STREAM  OF  DESTINY. 

"Why  do  you  ask  that?"  she  returned,  again  averting 
her  face. 

"  Because  I  noticed  that  you  have  seemed  in  profound 
thought  all  the  while." 

"  My  thoughts  have  not  been  so  profound  as  they  ap- 
pear, perhaps,"  she  replied. 

"  They  were  certainl~  absorbing  in  their  nature — like 
mine." 

"Like  yours?" 

She  glanced  at  him  quickly  again,  coloring. 

"Yes,  like  mine,"  he  persisted.  They  were  at  the  base 
of  a  long,  steep  hill,  which  the  horse  began  to  ascend  with 
slow  reluctance.  There  was  a  small  stream  at  this  point, 
spanned  by  a  narrow  bridge.  The  brook  was  swollen  in 
volume  from  the  recent  rains,  and  a  small,  level  tract  oj 
land  upon  each  side  of  the  road  was  flooded.  A  little 
later  this  fact  was  recalled  by  Philip  with  significance ; 
but  now  his  attention  was  absorbed  by  other  thoughts. 

"Then  you  have  been  in  a  reverie?"  she  asked, 
curiously. 

"  Yes,  ever  since  we  started  this  morning.  It  was 
more  of  a  dream  than  a  reverie,  however,  for  it  was  full 
of  strange,  impossible  fancies." 

The  horse  moved  very  slowly  up  the  slope.  But  neither 
of  them  noticed  the  fact.  Tracy's  solicitude  for  her  hus- 
band's ease  of  mind  seemed  to  have  been  forgotten.  Or 
perhaps  it  did  not  occur  to  her  that  a  better  speed  was 
possible. 

"  Aren't  we  too  mature  to  indulge  fancies  which  are 
impossible  of  fulfillment?"  Tracy  questioned. 

"  I  suppose  we  are.  But  we  are  never  satisfied  with 
anything  short  of  the  goal  we  have  hoped  and  prayed 
for." 

"  Then  you  have  been  thinking  of  unfulfilled  hopes?" 

"Yes.     And  you?" 

She  felt  that  he  was  looking  at  her  now,  and  the  con- 
sciousness of  his  scrutiny  caused  her  eyes  to  droop. 

"None  of   us    can  expect  the  full  fruition  of   our 


THE  STREAM  OF  toESTlNY.  89 

hopes,"  sne  said.  Her  voice  was  very  low;  there  was  a 
trace  of  suppressed  emotion  in  its  tones. 

"Why  not?"  he  returned.  She  did  not  speak.  A 
thrush  by  the  roadside  broke  in  with  its  sweet  song.  A 
moment  later  he  asked  again: 

"Why  not — so  far  as  this  life  is  concerned,  I  mean?" 
he  exclaimed. 

"  I  do  not  understand  your  meaning,  I  think." 

"  I  mean,  that  everything  in  the  world  is  ours.  If  we 
are  not  successful  in  life,  it  is  by  our  faults,  or  indolence. 
If  we  were  only  unfailing  in  judgment,  we  might  win  all 
that  we  strive  for.  It  is  our  errors  that  cost  us  the 
fruition  of  our  hopes.  All  things  are  possible  when  we 
begin;  it  is  our  mistakes  that  make  them  impossible." 

"  That  is  true,"  she  said. 

"  Then  why  may  we  not  expect  what  we  may  attain?" 
he  continued. 

"  We  are  not  begining  life  now,"  she  replied. 

He  made  an  impatient  gesture. 

"  That  is  true  with  me — I  have  never  begun  to  live," 
he  exclaimed,  his  voice  low  with  suppressed  feeling. 

"  You  haven't  begun? " 

She  looked  straight  into  his  face  as  she  asked  this. 
The  expression  there  startled  her,  and  again  she  fixed  her 
gaze  upon  the  distant  landscape. 

"  No,  I  have  not  begun  to  live,"  he  persisted,  in  the 
same  low,  passionate  tones.  "  I  thought  I  had  done  so 
once — five  years  ago.  But  it  was  a  false  beginning.  Fate 
interposed,  and  all  I  had  gained  worth  living  for  was 
snatched  away." 

There  was  an  interval  of  silence.  Philip's  pulses  beat 
tumultuously.  Why  was  he  saying  this  to  Tracy  Boyn- 
ton,  he  asked  himself.  He  did  not  desire  her  sympathy 
in  a  misfortune  of  which  she  had  been  the  cause,  lie 
did  not  wish  her  to  apologize  for  marrying  Chester  Boyn- 
ton  instead  of  himself.  Such  expression  from  her  would 
have  offended  him,  rather  than  otherwise. 


90  TfiE  8TEEAM  OP  DESTINY. 

Then  why  did  he  speak  thus?  "Was  it  to  test  her?  to 
see  if  she  had  regrets? 

He  half  expected  an  indignant  response  from  her.  He 
had  said  what  he  had  no  right  to  say  under  the  circum- 
stances, and  she  should  have  rebuked  him  for  doing  so. 
Yet  she  did  not.  She  was  silent  for  several  moments — 
suspenseful  moments  to  him. 

Then  she  said,  speaking  slowly: 

"  Perhaps  fate  was  more  kind  to  you  than — " 

He  hastened  to  nil  the  pause. 

"  Than  to  you? "  he  breathlessly  exclaimed. 

She  faced  him  then,  mingled  pain,  rebuke,  pleading, 
expressed  in  her  eyes,  and  upon  her  quivering  lips. 

"  You  have  no  right  to  say  that ! "  she  cried.  She 
seemed  on  the  point  of  saying  more,  but  repressed  the 
impulse. 

They  were  at  the  top  of  the  hill.  Before  them  lay  a 
steep  descent.  Philip,  involuntarily  glancing  down  the 
slope,  and  uttered  an  ejaculation  of  dismay. 


CHAPTER  XY. 

A  THOUSAND  FEARS. 

"  She  'gan  to  cast  in  her  mlsdoubtf  ul  mind 
A  thousand  fears  1" 

The  highway,  wherever  the  slopes  were  steep,  had  been 
badly  gullied  by  the  rains.  The  rain  of  the  previous  night, 
succeeding  that  of  the  day  and  night  before,  had  aggre- 
gated a  remarkably  heavy  fall. 

But  it  was  not  the  prominent  pebbles  and  gullies  which 
caused  Philip  Temple  to  draw  the  horse  to  a  halt  upon 
the  brow  of  the  hill,  and  utter  that  exclamation  of  dis- 
may. 

Below  lay  a  broad  meadow,  which  was  now  overflowed 
as  far  as  it  was  visible  to  the  eye.  And  at  the  base  of 
the  hill  a  river  crossed  under  the  road.  There  had  been, 
or  ought  to  have  been,  a  bridge,  but  none  was  there.  The 
stone  abutments  were  there.  There  were  a  few  timbers, 
held  in  place  doubtless  by  strong  spikes.  But  between  the 
abutments,  dividing  the  road,  yawned  a  broad  chasm, 
through  which  hurried  the  black  river,  risen  almost  to  the 
level  of  the  road  itself. 

There  was  no  mistaking  the  situation.  The  bridge  had 
been  carried  away  since  it  was  crossed  by  Boynton's  com- 
panions the  night  before.  To  cross  now  were  an  utter 
impossibility. 

"  Why  do  you  stop? "  Tracy  demanded.  She  had  not 
noticed  the  barrier  at  the  foot  of  the  hill. 

"  Look  below,"  Temple  replied,  pointing  toward  the 
bridgeless  river. 

"  The  bridge — washed  away ! "  she  cried. 

"  Evidently." 

"  But  how  are  we  to  cross? " 

"  That  is  a  problem  which  I  would  like  to  be  spared 
the  responsibility  of  solving." 


92  A  THOUSAND    FEARS. 

"  We  must  cross — in  some  way.     We  must!  " 

Her  utterance  seemed  prompted  by  an  impulse  akin 
to  apprehension. 

Philip  experienced  a  sense  of  contrition.  He  realized 
that  his  recent  language  had  been  equivocal ;  that  it  may 
have  been  interpreted  by  his  companion  to  have  meant 
more  than  he  had  intended.  And  in  consequence  she 
was  now  half  afraid  of  him.  He  had,  in  a  measure,  for- 
feited her  confidence. 

The  realization  cost  him  a  keen  pang.  How  could  he 
prove  to  her  that  he  held  her  honor,  the  purity  of  her 
soul,  dearer  than  his  own  life?  There  were  no  terms  in 
which  he  could  fitly  express  his  feeling.  He  could  only 
strive  to  regain  what  he  had  lost  by  falling  back  upon 
the  genuine  chivalrous  frankness  of  his  nature. 

There  is  nothing  so  efficacious  for  dispelling  faint  dis- 
trust as  a  change  of  tone,  from  seriousness,  with  its  dan- 
ger, to  humor.  There  is  a  relief  in  the  change,  too, 
which  is  helpful  to  both. 

""We  must  cross,  Mr.  Temple,"  Tracy  reiterated,  as 
her  companion  hesitated. 

He  looked  at  her  and  smiled.  "  So  we  must,"  he  re- 
plied. "  But,"  he  added,  his  smile  broadening,  "  we 
shall  have  to  swim  to  do  soi  There's  no  other  possible 
way,  because  the  chasm  is  too  broad  to  leap  across." 

She  compressed  her  lips;  then  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands. 

"Oh!  what  shall  we  do?"  she  cried.  She  almost 
sobbed  the  appeal. 

Philip  started  the  horse,  and  they  slowly  descended 
the  hill.  It  was  necessary  to  go  slowly,  because,  at  that 
point,  the  highway  was  washed  more  dangerously  than 
at  any  other  over  which  they  had  passed. 

They  reached  the  base  of  the  slope;  they  once  more 
halted,  this  time  close  to  the  brink.  The  horse,  sober 
animal  though  he  was,  snorted  and  put  back  his  ears  at 
sight  of  the  black,  eddying  current,  and  its  swishing 
sound  as  it  chafed  its  narrow  bounds. 


A»  THOUSAND    FEAKS.  93 

"  It  looks  as  though  they  were  going  to  begin  repairs 
at  once,"  Philip  remarked,  as  ne  glanced  across  the 
stream.  For  there,  piled  near  the  opening,  was  a  load 
of  plank,  and  several  heavy  timbers.  They  were  all  new; 
they  had  been  placed  there  since  the  rain. 

"  But  there  is  no  one  at  work  upon  it,"  Tracy  returned. 

"  They  have  probably  gone  back  for  more  lumber." 

"There  is  no  telling  when  they  may  return." 

"I  suppose  not.  But  it  is  evident  that  this  is  an 
important  road,  and  doubtless  a  temporary  bridge  will  be 
immediately  built.  If  the  workmen  were  only  here  it 
wouldn't  take  them  long  to  fix  it  so  that  we  could  get 
across,  horse  and  all.  The  animal  is  trusty,  and  would 
cross  a  pretty  shaky  affair  with  a  man  at  his  head." 

They  were  silent  a  moment.  Then  Philip  alighted 
and  went  to  the  edge  of  the  bank.  Then  he  listened. 

"I  believe  I  can  hear  wagon  coming  now,"  he  de- 
clared. 

"  If  they  would  only  place  a  plank  across,  I  would  go 
over  on  that,  and  walk  the  rest  of  the  distance,"  Tracy 
returned,  with  feverish  eagerness. 

"  You  could  not  do  that  alone,"  he  replied. 

"Why  not?" 

"  It  would  not  be  prudent,  upon  this  lonely  road.  We 
can  do  no  better  than  to  wait.  If  no  one  comes  to  fix 
the  bridge  we  will  go  back  to  the  house  which  we  passed 
a  while  ago." 

"  We  might  return  to  the  hotel.  That  would  be  better 
than  to  stop  at  a  strange  house." 

"Better,  if  we  could  get  there.  But  this  horse  is 
pretty  jaded  already.  It  is  seven  or  eight  miles  to  the 
Retreat,  and  even  if  the  horse  could  traverse  the  distance, 
we  should  go  so  slowly  that  it  would  be  long  after  night- 
fall when  we  should  arrive.  That  is  out  of  the  ques- 
tion." 

She  was  silent  again.  Her  distress  could  not  be 
concealed.  Up  to  the  present  she  had  evinced  no  eager- 
ness to  reach  their  destination.  But  of  a  sudden,  upon 


94:  A   THOUSAND    FEARS. 

discovery  of  the  barrier  to  their  progress,  she  seemed  to 
havegrown  intensely,  painfully  anxious. 

"Why  don't  they  come?"  she  impatiently  exclaimed, 
after  another  brief  silent  interval. 

Temple  was  still  listening.  Again  he  caught  a  faint 
rumble,  as  of  an  approaching  heavy  wagon.  But  it 
ceased  again,  and  he  half  feared  it  was  all  but  a  freak  of 
his  own  imagination. 

He  glanced  upward  at  the  sky.  It  was  clear  and  serene. 
At  least,  there  was  no  danger  of  the  additional  discomfort 
of  a  sudden  storm  assailing  them. 

"  Do  you  hear  it? "  Tracy  asked,  watching  his  face  fur- 
tively. 

"  I  did,  a  moment  ago." 

"  Isn't  it  upon  another  road !  " 

"  There  is  none  near  enough  for  the  sound  to  reach  us." 

"  It  may  not  have  been  a  wagon  that  you  heard." 

He  laughed,  to  cheer  her  from  the  strained  anxiety  into 
which  she  was  sinking  more  deeply  ever  moment. 

"  Don't  be  so  hopeless,"  he  implored.  "  This  isn't  the 
worst  of  all  possible  situations.  Suppose  it  had  happened 
upon  a  sultry  day,  and  a  thunder  storm  came  upon  us? 
Or,  what  if  we  were  twenty  miles  from  human  habita- 
tion; or  there  were  wolves  and  bears  to  attack  us;  or  sav- 
ages concealed  behind  yonder  trees,  coveting  our  scalps  ?" 

She  shivered,  and  then  laughed,  in  a  nervous,  hysterical 
way. 

"  Don't  speak  of  those  dreadful  possibilities,"  she  cried. 

"  I  will  not.  I  was  only  drawing  a  dark  picture,  that 
you  might  look  upon  our  situation  less  woefully.  We're 
not  very  badly  off.  We  can  go  to  a  house  in  twenty  min- 
utes." 

"  But  Chester — he  will  worry.  It  is  of  him  that  I'm 
thinking." 

"  He  may  not  worry  at  all.  He  will  suppose  that  four 
of  us  started  together,  if  we  started  at  all ;  and  if  we  do 
not  arrive  he  will  know  that  something  detained  us.  If 
it  was  anything  serious  he  will  expect  to  be  informed.  If 


A   THOUSAND    FEARS.  95 

you  were  ill-,  or  injured,  word  would  be  gotten  to  Hm 
somehow.  You  say  he  is  cool  and  practical.  TV  hat 
would  concern  you  will  not  disturb  him.  He  will  laugh 
at  our  adventure  when  he  comes  to  hear  of  it.  We  can 
laugh  at  it  now.  In  fact,  there  doesn't  seem  to  be  any- 
thing for  us  to  do  except  to  laugh." 

Mrs.  Boynton  seemed  somewhat  relieved  by  her  com- 
panion's cheerfulness.  It  might  have  been  his  lightness 
of  demeanor,  which  most  relieved  her  anxiety,  however. 
It  dispelled  that  sense  of  vague,  nameless  danger  which 
his  words  inspired  a  short  time  before. 

The  sun  was  sinking  toward  the  horizon.  Already 
long  shadows  were  creeping  across  the  road,  growing 
longer  and  darker  as  the  moments  passed. 

At  last  Philip  spoke  again. 

"  We  had  better  go  back,"  he  said. 

"Whither?" 

"  To  the  house  which  we  passed." 

"  And  give  up  crossing  to-night? " 

"  Yes." 

"  What  if  the  people  should  refuse  to  keep  us  over 
night?" 

"  They  would  not  turn  us  out  doors." 

"  But  we  know  nothing  of  their  character. 

"  And  they  know  nothing  of  ours — so  we  shall  be  even 
on  that  score." 

He  began  backing  the  horse  around.  As  he  did  so, 
Tracy  exclaimed: 

"Hark!" 

They  listened. 

This  time  there  was  no  mistaking  it.  A  wagon  was 
approaching — a  heavy  loaded  wagon,  as  was  indicated  by 
the  slow,  ponderous  rumble. 

"  It  is  coming  this  time,  sure,"  they  exclaimed  in  a 
breath.  In  another  moment  the  wagon  came  into  view, 
and  drew  up  upon  the  opposite  side  of  the  chasm. 

It  was  drawn  by  a  yoke  of  oxen — hence  the  slowness  of 


96  A   THOUSAND    FEARS. 

its  approach.  It  was  loaded  with  timber  for  the  bridge, 
and  naif  a  dozen  men  -accompanied  it. 

The  men  flung  off  their  coats  and  began  deliberately  to 
unload. 

"Halloo!"  shouted  Philip,  approaching  the  banks  of 
the  stream. 

The  men  heard  his  shout;  one  of  them  came  forward; 
a  tall,  raw-boned  man,  with  bushy,  red  whiskers. 

"  What  yer  want?"  he  demanded,  staring  at  the  young 
man,  as  though  the  latter  were  a  curious  animal  escaped 
from  a  menagerie. 

"  We  want  to  get  across,"  Temple  replied. 

"Why  don't  ye,  then?"  the  other  retorted,  with  inso- 
lent humor. 

"  I  have  a  lady  with  me,"  Philip  explained,  with  un- 
relaxed  dignity  of  demeanor,  "  and  it  is  imperative  that 
she  should  cross.  If  you  are  going  to  build  a  tempo- 
rary bridge,  we  will  wait.  If  not,  we  will  make  some 
other  arrangement." 

There  was  a  space  of  silence.  The  men  had  all  ceased 
work.  Some  of  them  were  exchanging  comments  in  an 
undertone. 

"  What  do  you  say?"  Philip  demanded,  impatiently. 

"  You  can  wait,"  the  man  replied. 

"Are  you  going  to  build  a  bridge  to-night?" 

" We're goin' to  try."- 

"  How  long  will  it  take  you  to  get  it  so  that  I  can  lead 
my  horse  ove.r?" 

«  Stiddy?" 

"Yes." 

"  'N  hour  or  so.  Twon't  take  long,  I  guess.  We  was 
goin'  to  build  a  bridge  that  would  stay,  bet'wixt  this  and 
to-morrow  mornin'.  This  'ere  town  don't  build  tempo- 
rary 'fairs.  Got  sick  of  it.  We'll  work  all  night,  and  by 
daylight  there'll  be  a  bridge  here  that  you  could  drive  a 
steam  engine  over.  Twon't  take  long  to  rig  up  suthin' 
so's  you  can  git  aerost." 

The  other  men  had  resumed  work,  with  some  show  of 


A  THOUSAND    FEAES.  97 

alacrity.  Timbers  were  thrown  across  the  chasm,  and 
spiked  into  place.  All  the  while  the  bushy  whiskered 
man  kept  talking. 

"  Don't  pay  to  put  up  no  temporary  bridges,"  he  de- 
clared, as  though  in  response  to  an  assertion  that  it  did 
pay. 

"  A  temporary  bridge  has  got  to  be  safe;  and  you  might 
as  well  make  it  a  good  one  while  you're  about  it.  This 
road  has  got  to  be  used  every  day.  Main  turnpike,  you 
see.  If  this  bridge  wa'n't  built  before  to-morrow  night 
the  devil  would  be  to  pay.  Beggin'  the  lady's  pardon  for 
what  may  sound  like  swearin' !" 

He  need  not  have  apologized,  for  Mrs.  Boynton  did 
not  hear  the  "  swearin' "  nor  any  other  part  of  his  re- 
marks, except  so  far  as  they  concerned  their  immediate 
needs. 

The  sun  sank  behind  the  hills.  Twilight  was  settling 
upon  the  scene,  and  the  river,  creeping  with  such  swift 
stealth  between  its  narrow  bounds,  had  grown  inky  in  its 
blackness. 

The  shadows  were  now  black,  also;  and  the  forms  of 
the  men  busy  upon  the  bridge,  grew  grotesque  to  the 
vision. 

Lanterns  were  lighted,  to  enable  them  to  go  on  with 
their  work ;  and  gradually  the  white  moonlight  made  itself 
visble,  casting  a  strange  witchery  over  the  scene. 

Tracy  alighted  from  the  vehicle,  and  walked  to  and 
fro  with  her  companion,  watching  the  men  at  their  work, 
the  twinkling  lights,  the  prismatic  reflections  upon  the 
water's  surface,  the  white,  changeful  moonlight,  the 
wavering  shadows. 

But  very  few  words  passed  between  them. 

The  scene  was  strangely  bewitching;  a  scene,  and  the 
associations  of  which,  was  to  linger  in  their  memories 
with  peculiar  vividness.  They  little  thought  how  bitter 
that  memory  was  to  become. 

Philip's  fancies  were  again  stimulated;  but  he  did  not 
indulge  them  as  he  had  done  before. 
7 


98  A   THOUSAND    FEARS. 

"  I  was  mistaken  in  her,  after  all!"  lie  reflected.  "  She 
loves  her  husband  better  than  I  thought.  And  yet — " 

He  recalled  her  hesitancy;  her  failure  to  resent 
promptly  what  he  had  said;  her  failure  to  declare,  with 
warmth,  that  the  fruition  of  her  hopes  had  come  to  her 
as  the  wife  of  the  man  she  loved.  She  had  not  said  that. 
Her  manner  and  responses  were  vaguely  equivocal.  The 
question  yet  remained  unanswered.  There  was  still 
cause  to  suspect  that  she  was  unhappy — disappointed. 
That  she,  too,  had  indulged  vain  regrets. 

The  process  of  reasoning  was  simple,  and  everything 
seemed  to  conspire  toward  a  nattering  conclusion — flat- 
tering to  the  dreams  which  Philip  had  been  indulging. 
The  moonlight,  with  its  witching  influence;  the  presence 
of  Tracy,  stimulating  his  love  for  her.  For  Temple,  in 
his  own  heart,  had  many  times  confessed  that  he  did  love 
Tracy  Boynton,  as  he  had  loved  Tracy  Sherman.  How 
could  it  be  otherwise,  he  reasoned,  when  he  had  loved  her 
before  her  marriage,  unless  his  heart  were  fickle?  He 
admitted  that  he  had  no  right  to  evince  his  regard;  but 
what  law  could  root  out  the  deepest  impulses  his  heart 
had  ever  known? 

"  Might  come  over  now  if  you're  in  a  hurry,"  an- 
nounced one  of  the  laborers,  breaking  in  upon  his  reflec- 
tions. 

"  How  quickly  they  have  done  the  work,"  Tracy  ex- 
claimed. 

Philip  glanced  at  his  watch.  The  hour  was  nine 
o'clock.  They  had  been  at  work  nearly  two  hours  upon 
the  structure.  Yet  to  Tracy  the  time  had  seemed  short — 
a  fact  that  proved  still  more  conclusively  that  Philip's 
fancies  were  not  without  foundation.  At  least,  his  so- 
ciety was  agreeable  to  her;  for  together  the  time  flew 
swiftly,  as  it  does  upon  the  wings  or  love. 

The  horse  and  vehicle  were  led  across  the  incomplete 
structure;  Temple  and  his  companion  again  mounted 
the  seat;  and  a  little  later  they  drew  up  before  a  red 
house,  with  yellow  blinds. 


A  THOUSAND    FEARS.  99 

At  the  door  Mrs.  Boynton  was  met  by  her  husband. 
He  held  a  lamp  in  one  hand ;  and  by  its  dull  glow  she 
saw  a  fierce  frown  upon  his  countenance,  such  as  she  had 
never  seen  there  before. 

"  So  you  have  come  at  last?  "  he  exclaimed,  in  a  tone 
that  was  almost  harsh  in  its  coldness. 


100  CHESTER'S  GREETING. 


CHAPTER   XYI. 

CHESTER'S    GREETING. 

"  Every  sullen  frown  and  bitter  scorn 
But  fanned  the  fuel  that  too  fast  did  burn." 

— Dryden. 

To  Chester  Boynton's  greeting  his  wife  made  no  re- 
sponse. He  turned  to  enter,  and  she  mutely  followed. 
She  was  led  to  a  large,  low-ceiled  chamber,  whose  meager 
furnishings  and  general  dinginess  bespoke  the  poverty 
of  their  host. 

Chester  ushered  her  into  the  room,  and  then  followed, 
closing  the  door  behind  them.  She  faced  him  then ;  her 
cheeks  were  pale ;  her  glance  matching  his  in  coldness. 

"  Yes,  I  have  come,"  she  then  said,  her  voice  trem- 
bling with  half -repressed  indignation. 

"1  had  about  given  you  up,"  he  returned,  with  a 
slight  smile  which-  was  more  offending  to  her  sensitive 
nature  -than  his  frown  had  been. 

"  Then  you  had  some  hope  of  seeing  me  again?"  she 
asked,  with  tine  scorn. 

"  ^gjT  little,  I  confess.  I  see  Mr.  Blanchard  and 
Miss  Wentworth  did  not  accompany  you.  Was  it  by 
their  unwillingness  or  yours  that  they  did  not  do  so  ?" 

"  They  were  willing." 

The  reply  was  slowly  uttered.  And  no  other  expla- 
nation was  vouchsafed.  Mrs.  Boynton  saw  the  truth. 
Chester  had  already  convicted  her,  in  his  heart,  of  a 
wrong  which  she  believed  herself  incapable  of  commit- 
ting. Never  before  had  she  suspected  that  her  husband 
were  capable  of  jealousy.  But  it  was  plain  that  this 
worst  or  all  passions  had  been  excited  within  him ;  that 
it  had  stung  him  to  injustice. 

Tracy's  sense  of  the  wrong  done  her  was  keen.  While 
she  had  feared  that  her  husband  would  be  concerned  at 
her  non-appearance,  he  had  in  reality  been  conjuring 
wild,  maddening  suspicions  against  her.  He  had  not 


CHESTER'S  GREETING.  101 

even  asked  if  she  had  met  with  an  accident;  he  had  given 
her  no  opportunity  for  explanation;  he  had  only  greeted 
in  her  that  cold  way  which  had  unmistakably  betrayed 
his  distrust. 

The  shock  to  the  sensitive  young  wife  was  a  bitter  one. 
The  sense  of  flagrant  injustice  shown  filled  her  with  in- 
tense indignation.  He  had  asked  for  no  explanation; 
she  stood  condemned  beforehand;  and,  under  the  im- 
pulse of  that  moment  of  passion,  she  resolved  to  with- 
hold from  him  the  story  of  the  day's  mishaps. 

"And  you  prevailed  upon  them  not  to  obtrude?"  he 
demanded,  angered  by  the  coolness  of  her  responses. 

"  If  it  suits  your  mood  to  believe  so,  you  are  at  lib- 
erty." 

"  Tracy,  what  do  you  mean?" 

She  sank  breathlessly  upon  a  chair;  she  had  made  no 
move  toward  removing  her  wraps. 

"  My  meaning  ought  to  be  plain  to  you,"  she  replied. 

He  was  silent,  and  she  added,  hurriedly: 

"  You  need  not  question  me  concerning  the  delay  in 
my  coming,  because  I  shall  not  explain.  You  would  not 
credit  anything  which  I  might  say,  in  your  present 
mood.  Besides,  I  feel  that  I  owe  you  no  excuses.  The 
insult  conveyed  in  your  tones  and  looks  absolves  me  from 
whatever  sense  of  duty  to  you  I  have  hitherto  enter- 
tained. Bear  in  mind  that  this  experience  of  mine  shall 
not  soon  be  forgotten.  The  love  that  goes  hand  in  hand 
with  distrust  is  not  the  love  I  crave,  or  wish  to  retain!" 

A  bright  flush  had  leaped  into  her  face  while  she  was 
speaking,  relieving  its  pallor.  Her  voice  was  unsteady ; 
it  was  almost  shrill  in  the  intensity  of  her  indignation. 
Yet  there  was  a  cold  courtesy  in  her  words  that  rendered 
their  sting  the  more  keen  and  lasting,  for  they  did  not 
seem  to  be  the  utterance  of  an  angry  impulse. 

Chester  turned  abruptly  away,  and  seemed  on  the  point 
of  leaving  her.  But  at  the  door  he  paused  and  looked 
back.  He  had  set  the  lamp  upon  a  table;  and  as  he 
stood  near  the  door  his  face  was  thrown  into  shadow. 


102  CHESTER'S  GREETING. 

"  Have  I  not  the  right  to  demand  an  explanation  ? "  he 
said,  in  a  low,  steady  voice. 

"  You  had  the  right,"  she  replied. 

"  It  is  still  mine." 

"  Yes,  you  have  the  right  to  demand."  She  paused, 
and  then  firmly  added:  "And  I  have  the  privilege  of 
refusing." 

The  jealous  husband  flung  up  one  hand  with  an  angry 
gesture. 

"  You  are  my  wife !  "  he  cried,  raising  his  voice. 

"  Unfortunately  for  us  both,  I  am." 

As  he  grew  more  excited  in  speech,  hers  became 
calmer.  Upon  that  occasion,  at  least,  she  seemed  the 
stronger  character  of  the  two. 

"Then  you  regret  your  choice?"  he  demanded.  He 
seemed  determined  to  render  their  alienation  too  great 
to  admit  of  reconciliation. 

"  I  have  not  said  so,"  she  replied. 

"  You  intimated  it." 

"  Do  you  wish  me  say  that  I  regret  it?" 

"  If  it  is  true,  I  had  rather  hear  it  from  your  lips  than 
by  other  means." 

"  Why  must  I  be  cross-examined  in  this  way?  Why 
may  I  not  demand  a  like  declaration  from  you  ?  " 

"  You  have  no  reason  to  question  the  sincerity  of  my 
regard,  Tracy." 

"  Haven't  I?  Are  you  quite  sure?  I  haven't  an  enemy 
in  the  world  who  would  insult  me  as  you  have  done  to- 
night. Is  that  the  measure  of  your  sincerity  ? " 

She  smiled  as  she  said  this,  and  her  smile  added  to  the 
scorn  of  her  tone. 

"  How  have  I  insulted  you?  I  have  said  nothing  that 
I  had  not  reason  to  say.  I  sent  for  you  to  come  this 
morning;  and  I  was  generous  enough  to  ask  your  former 
— I  will  not  say  present — lover  to  come  with  you.  You 
fail  to  come  when  I  expect  you;  the  friends  who  were 
to  accompany  you  also  fail  to  appear;  and  when  you  ar- 
rive, it  is  at  a  late  hour,  and  in  company  with  the  one 


CHESTER'S  GKEETING.  103 

whom  I  have  good  reason  to  suppose  once  possessed  the 
warmest  regard  of  your  heart." 

Mr.  Boynton's  speech  was  usually  rather  deliberate. 
But  then  it  was  rapid,  and  his  whole  demeanor  seemed 
to  have  undergone  a  startling  transformation. 

Tracy  rose  to  her  feet,  advanced  a  pace  toward  him, 
the  color  fleeing  from  her  face  and  leaving  it  white  as 
marble. 

"  Who  told  you  that  lie  was  ever  my — my  lover  ? "  she 
demanded,  her  tones  husky  with  eagerness. 

Chester  smiled  this  time  somewhat  exultantly. 

"  I  have  friends  who  are  unwilling  to  have  me  de- 
ceived," he  answered. 

"Who  told  you,  Chester  Boynton?  /  demand  to 
know  !  " 

"  It  is  your  turn  to  demand,  it  seems.  It  is  mine  to 
refuse.  I  am  too  grateful  for  my  friend's  warning  to 
betray  his  or  her  personality." 

She  did  not  speak  immediately  and  he  continued: 

"  Let  it  suffice  that  the  source  of  my  information  is 
trustworthy.  And  if  it  were  not  your  looks  at  this 
moment  would  confirm  it.  You  were  once  the  betrothed 
wife  of  Philip  Temple — or  at  least,  he  supposed  you  to 
be  such.  It  was  by  a  mere  chance  that  you  were  sepa- 
rated. By  a  mere  chance  you  are  now  brought  together. 
Therefore,  what  had  1  reason  to  expect?  Yet  I  believed 
that  you  really  cared  for  me;  that  you  had  self-respect 
sufficient  to  silence  or  prevent  gossip.  But  you  have  not 
done  so.  I  accuse  you  of  nothing  worse  than  a  show  of 
.sentiment  toward  a  former  lover.  But  your  conduct,  and 
the  position  into  which  you  have  allowed  yourself  to  be 
drawn  to-night  is  sufficient  to  tarnish  your  name  and 
mine.  Frankness  upon  your  part  might  have  brightened 
the  shadow,  and  dispelled  my  suspicions,  at  least.  But 
your  refusal  to  explain  leaves  me  to  infer  what  I  please." 

Once  more  Tracy  sank  upon  a  chair.  For  a  moment 
she  covered  her  face  with  ner  hands,  and  he  could  see 
that  her  form  shook  with  emotion. 


104  CHESTER'S  GBEETINGL 

Yet,  when  she  again  looked  at  him,  it  was  plain  that 
she  had  not  been  weeping. 

"  I  was  not  aware  before  that  I  had  enemies  spying 
upon  me,"  she  exclaimed. 

"  You  should  not  have  hoped  to  keep  the  secret  of  your 
former  relations  with  Philip  Temple  from  my  knowl- 
edge," Boynton  returned. 

"  Had  you  asked  me  for.my  confidence  in  such  matters 
I  should  not  have  withheld  it." 

"Are  you  sure?" 

"  Quite  sure." 

"  I  did  not  ask  for  it.    I  trusted  you  fully." 

"  You  trusted  me,  as  a  stranger  not  as  a  husband 
should  do.  Your  confidence  is  upset  by  the  first 
shadow." 

"  It  is  not  a  small  shadow,  Tracy.  Remember,  you 
refused,  a  moment  ago,  to  explain." 

"  You  asked  for  no  explanation.  You  condemned  me 
without  one,  as  I  have  said." 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence.  Then,  in  an  altered 
tone,  full  of  courteous  coldness,  Tracy  asked: 

"  In  our  quarrel  I  have  forgotten  to  inquire  after  your 
unfortunate  friend,  Mr.  Stacy.  Is  he  doing  well  ?" 

Chester  compressed  his  lips.  Never  had  his  wife 
seemed  so  radiantly  lovely  as  at  this  moment.  He  was 
assailed  by  a  feeling  that  he  had,  perhaps,  been  too  hasty, 
in  his  jealous  frenzy.  He  was  half  impelled  at  this  mo- 
ment to  seek  her  pardon ;  to  take  the  first  step  toward  re- 
conciliation. But  pride,  and  jealous  pangs  which  still 
clung  to  him,  withheld  the  spontaneous  outpouring  of 
his  really  generous  nature.  "  I  will  wait,  and  see  what 
comes  of  it  all,"  ho  mentally  decided.  "  I  have  reason  to 
be  suspicious ;  when  she  explains  all,  frankly  as  she  ought, 
then  I  can  acknowledge  my  error.  It  shall  be  according 
to  her  choice,  not  mine.  She  shall  not  be  hampered  by 
me." 

Aloud,  in  reply  to  her  question,  he  said: 

"  His  limb  was  badly  fractured,  and  I'm  sorry  to  say 


CHESTER'S  GREETING.  105 

that  he  is  doing  far  from  well.  The  delay  in  getting  a 
surgeon  allowed  some  inflammation  to  set  in,  and  there  are 
symptoms  of  fever.  He  has  no  nurse  that  the  doctor  can 
trust,  and  for  a  few  days,  at  least,  I  shall  take  care  of 
him.  I  shall  sit  up  with  him  to-night." 

"  I'm  sorry  he  is  so  bad,"  Tracy  returned.  She  was 
quietly  removing  her  hat  and  Newmarket,  standing  before 
tne  small  mirror  that  hung  over  the  old-fashioned  wash- 
stand.  An  observer  at  the  moment  would  not  have  sus- 
pected that  there  was  pain,  jealousy,  indignation  burning 
within  their  hearts.  Or  that  there  had  oeen  a  quarrel, 
such  as  ruin  many  lives  had  just  been  indulged. 

"  If  you  need  my  assistance,  do  not  hesitate  to  call," 
she  added,  with  a  quiet  sincerity  which  could  not  be  mis- 
taken. "  I  shall  not  need  you  to-night;  to-morrow  I  may. 
And  it  is  possible  that  Mr.  Temple  can  relieve  me  to- 
morrow night." 

He  opened  the  door,  but  lingered  for  a  moment  upon 
the  threshold,  as  though  hoping  something  more  might 
be  said.  But  she  did  not  again  look  at  him.  She  went 
on  arranging  her  hair  before  the  glass. 

And  he  wheeled  quickly  and  left  her  alone,  the  door 
closing  between  them  with  a  bang. 


106  THE  HEART  OF  A  WOMAN. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE   HEART   OF   WOMAN. 

"  Ah  me !  How  weak  a  thing 
The  heart  of  woman  is." 

— Julius  Caesar.  Act.  2,  Scene  iv. 

Tracy  did  not  see  Philip,  nor  her  husband,  again  that 
night. 

A  servant  had  been  employed,  at  Stacy's  expense,  to 
assist  Gridley's  housekeeper.  The  house  was  ample  in 
size,  althougn  its  furnishings  throughout  were  meager  and 
out  of  date. 

Gridley  himself  was  a  man  of  sixty  five,  and  it  was 
plain  that  he  was  of  miserly  disposition.  Indeed  he 
seemed  to  rejoice  that  Mr.  Stacy's  misfortune  had 
brought  him  what  he  otherwise  might  have  never  ob- 
tained— several  remunerative  boarders. 

To  his  son,  who  was  a  cripple,  undersized  and  old- 
looking,  the  miser  said  upon  every  favorable  oppor- 
tunity : 

"  They're  rich  city  folks,  and  let  'em  pay  well  for  what 
they  git,  might  as  well  come  into  our  pockets  as  any- 
body's, eh?" 

The  youth  would  nod  and  grin  affimatively.  Yet  it 
was  doubtful  if  a  copper  cent  of  the  proceeds  ever  found 
a  resting  place  in  his  pocket.  Perhaps,  however,  he  felt 
that  he  was  a  sharer  in  the  old  man's  prosperity,,  in  the  lat- 
ter's  willingness  to  confide  in  him. 

"  We'll  make  a  good  thing  off  of  'em  afore  the  young 
chap  gits  well,"  he  would  continue,  rubbing  the  stumpy 
beard  upon  his  chin  with  one  yellow  hand  with  measured 
emphasis. 

"  A  bad  break,  the  doctor  says.  Fever  liable  to  set  in. 
May  be  sick  two  months.  That  Boynton — generous  chap, 
not  a  stingy  hair  about  him — won't  desert  his  friend. 
Wife — pretty's  a  picter — won't  leave  him.  And  Mr. 
Temple  won't  go  while  she  stays.  Clear  enough  that  he 


THE  HEART  OF  A  WOMAH.  107 

sets  a,  heap  by  her,  though  she  is  another  man's  wife. 
None  of  our  business  long  as  they  pay  well — eh,  Simon?" 

Simon  nodded  and  grinned  again.  This  was  his  stereo- 
typed way  of  assenting  to  everything.  And  then  he  hob- 
bled away  on  his  crutches,  muttering  to  himself. 

This  was  spoken  early  the  next  evening  after  the  ar- 
rival of  Philip  and  Tracy. 

In  the  meanwhile  Mr.  Boynton  had  learned,  in  a  casual 
remark  on  the  part  of  Temple,  of  the  destroyed  bridge, 
and  of  the  other  delays  which  had  caused  them  to  be  so 
long  upon  the  road.  But  these  explanations  were  not 
made  to  him.  Philip  supposed,  then,  that  Tracy  had 
explained  to  her  husband,  and  therefore  supposed  that 
the  details  were  not  due  from  him. 

Yet,  at  the  table  at  dinner  and  breakfast  he  became 
vaguely  conscious  that  there  was  trouble  between  hus- 
band and  wife.  Not  until  early  evening  did  he  have  a 
chance  to  speak  with  Tracy  alone,  although  they  had 
spoken  freely  together  before  the  others  during  the  day. 

The  glow  of  another  sunset  rested  upon  the  tree-tops, 
glinting  the  old  house,  filling  the  windows  with  flame. 
Philip  stood  under  a  tree  at  a  short  distance  from  the 
dwelling.  He  heard  a  light,  quick  step  near  him,  and 
turning,  saw  Tracy  approaching. 

The  day  had  been  warmer  than  the  previous  one,  and 
she  had  donned  a  dainty-figured  lawn,  that  caused  her  to 
look  more  sweet  and  fairy -like  than  usual. 

"  I  was  looking  for  you,"  she  said,  as  she  came  up. 
At  the  same  time  a  slight  flush  of  embarrassment  came 
into  her  cheeks. 

"Were  you?"  he  returned,  thrilled  with  pleasure. 

"Why  not?  I  have  hardly  seen  you  to-day.  And — 
I  have  something  I  wish  to  tell  you." 

Her  tone  faltered  a  little  as  she  said  this.  He  looked 
at  her  in  vague  surprise. 

"What  is  it?  Something  that  troubles  you?"  he 
questioned. 


108  THE  HEART  OF  A  WOMAI?. 

"Have  you  spoken  with  Chester  to-day?"  she  ab- 
ruptly asked. 

"Only  casually." 

"  Then  he  has  said  nothing  to  you  ? " 

"  Nothing  of  special  note.  In  fact,  I  imagined  that 
he  tried  to  avoid  me.  He  asked  if  I  would  take  care  of 
Mr.  Stacy  to-night — that  is  all  that  I  remember." 

"  I  am  glad  he  has  said  nothing  more,"  she  returned, 
with  a  sign  of  relief. 

Her  words  only  excited  his  curiosity. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  questioned. 

She  did  not  answer.  He  drew  nearer,  and  looked 
earnestly  down  into  her  face. 

"You  have  quarrelled  again?"  he  said,  in  a  very  low 
tone. 

How  did  he  know  that  they  had  ever  quarreled  ?  she 
asked  herself. 

"A  little,"  she  admitted,  compressing  her  lips. 

" I  was  not  the  cause,  I  hope?" 

"No — not  you,  directly.  He  had  no  right  to  show 
you  injustice.  He  was  jealous — some  one  has  been 
poisoning  his  mind  against  me.  He  knows  that  we  were 
once — " 

She  hesitated,  and  he  supplied,  in  a  questioning  tone: 

"Lovers?" 

The  word  was  lightly  uttered;  but  it  sent  a  bright 
glow  over  her  cheeks,  rivaling  that  of  the  sunset. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered. 

"  Some  one  told  him ! " 

"Yes." 

"Do  you  know  whom?" 

"No/' 

"And  does  he  refuse  to  tell  you?" 

"He  does." 

There  was  a  pause.     Philip  Temple's   face  clouded; 
there  was  a  resentful  flash  in  his  blue  eyes. 
"This  is  infamous!"  he  cried  vehemently. 
She  made  no  response,  and  he  continued: 


THE   HEART  OF  A  WOMAN.  109 

"So  he  is  jealous  of  me!    And  was  he — unkind?" 

"Don't  ask  me!"  she  cried,  appealingly. 

There  was  another  pause. 

Then  Philip  said,  decisively: 

"  I  will  go  away." 

"  No,  no ! "  she  returned. 

"Why  not?" 

"  I  wish  you  to  stay.  Mr.  Stacy  needs  you.  You 
shall  not  be  driven  away  like  this.  It  will  do  no  good 
for  you  to  go.  Our  -quarrel  cannot  be  healed  in  that 
way.  You  are  my  friend,  and  his  unreasoning  jealousy 
shall  not  separate  us,  or  make  us  as  strangers.  We  are 
blameless — are  we  not?" 

She  looked  straight  into  his  face  as  she  asked  the 
question.  In  a  flash,  he  remembered  the  tenor  of  his 
fancies  or  dreams  of  the  previous  day.  Was  lie  blame- 
less? The  question  came  to  him  with  accusing  force 
But  there  was  a  plausible  answer  ready.  It  is  so  easy 
for  us  to  practice  self-deception.  It  is  so  easy  to  arrive 
at  a  verdict  of  self -acquittal,  no  matter  how  strong  the 
evidence  presented  to  our  own  consciousness. 

"  Yes,  we  are  blameless,"  he  answered,  his  voice  shak 
ing.  "  ISTo  one  can  accuse  us  rightfully  of  an  improper 
word  or  action.  /  may  not  be  wholly  innocent  in  one 
regard.  I  have  allowed  you  to  see  that  I  have  not  f  or- 
gotten  the  past ;  I  have  admitted  that  the  love  which  I 
once  had  a  right  to  avow  had  not  been  destroyed  by  the 
accidents  of  separation,  and  marriage.  In  letting  you 
see  this,  I  may  have  overstepped  the  bounds  of  propriety. 
But  I  could  not  have  hidden  the  truth  if  I  had  attempted 
to  do  so,  and  perhaps  frankness  is  better  than  unsuccess- 
ful concealment.  If  there  is  blame,  as  I  say,  it  is  mine." 

Her  eyes  drooped;  the  color  had  again  faded  from  her 
face. 

"  You  are  too  generous,"  she  said,  almost  inaudibly. 

"How?" 

"  I,  too,  am  open  to  blame." 

"  I  do  not  understand?" 


110  THE   HEART  OF  A  WOMAN. 

"  It  is  better  that  we  should  misunderstand  each 
other,"  she  exclaimed,  hastily. 

The  words  thrilled  him  with  a  wild,  overpowering  con- 
viction. What  might  he  not  infer  from  her  remark  ? 

He  bent  eagerly  toward  her;  for  an  instant  a  question 
trembled  upon  his  lips — a  query  prompted  by  his  own 
overpowering  love — yet,  with  strong  self-control  he  sup- 
pressed it.  If  what  he  suspected  were  true,  what  right 
nad  he  to  take  advantage  of  her  confidence  in  him? 
Would  there  be  aught  gained  if  she  were  prevailed  upon 
to  admit  that,  if  she  were  free,  she  would  return  his 
love?  That  she  did  return  it  even  now? 

In  that  moment  of  hesitation  between  passion  and  the 
generous,  chivalrous  instincts  of  his  nature,  Philip  Tem- 
ple realized  that  in  such  an  admission  from  her,  if  it 
were  true,  only  a  greater  torture  would  be  entailed  to 
them  both.  If  it  were  true,  it  were  treason  to  utter  it. 
It  were  a  thousand  times  better  unspoken.  He  drew 
back  quickly.  She  had  not  seen  the  look  upon  his  face, 
and  it  was  well  that  she  did  not. 

"  I  will  go  away,  Mrs.  Boynton,"  he  declared,  with 
forced  calmness.  "  It  is  better  to  remove  all  appearance 
of  evil,  and  then  your  husband  may  regret  his  hasty 
judgment." 

"I  don't  wish  you  to  go,"  she  persisted. 

"  I  think  it  is  wiser  for  us  both." 

"  It  may  be  wiser  for  you.  But  I  am  selfish.  If  you 
go  Chester  will  think  I  told  you  to  do  so,  that  his  sus- 
picions might  be  allayed.  He  has  been  jealous  without 
just  cause.  We  will  prove  to  him  that  our  friendship  is 
above  reproach.  My  fair  name  is  dear  to  me,  as  well  as 
to  him." 

"  It  is  dear  to  me  also,"  Philip  said,  fervently. 

"  Then  you  will  stay — for  the  present? " 

"  If  it  is  best.  I  will  stay  until  to-morrow — until  I 
have  time  to  think." 

"  You  will  stay — it  is  best,"  she  insisted,  so  eagerly 


THE   HEART  OF  A  WOMAN.  Ill 

that  he  could  not  have  refused  then,  had  he  wished  to 
do  so. 

They  were  silent  again  for  a  few  moments.  She  turned 
to  leave  him,  and  then  came  back. 

"  One  thing  more,"  she  said  hesitatingly. 

"  Anything  you  may  ask." 

"  Chester  may  speak  to  you — that  is  reproachfully." 

"  He  may  indulge  in  severe  language,  if  he  chance  to 
give  his  passion  rein." 

u  And  if  he  should  do  so,  how  should  you  meet  him?" 

"  Just  as  you  may  direct." 

"  Can  you  exercise  self-control  under  strong  provoca- 
tion?"  J 

"  If  need  be." 

"  Then  refuse  to  quarrel  with  him.  Do  not  make  re- 
torts to  his  angry  remarks.  Do  not  exasperate  him 
further  than  he  is  at  the  beginning." 

"  It  shall  be  as  you  say,  Mrs.  Boynton.  There  shall  be 
no  quarrel  betwixt  your  husband  and  me  if  I  can  avoid 
it.  I  will  meet  him  with  humility,  or  whatever  may 
best  assuage  his  anger." 

"  I  can  trust  you,  Mr.  Temple.  I  wish  he  might  com- 
prehend how  noble  you  are!" 

She  was  moving  away  as  she  said  this.  He  started  to 
follow  her,  but  suppressed  the  impulse,  and  returning  to 
the  tree,  flung  himself  wearily  upon  the  ground.  He 
had  scarcely  done  so  before  he  heard  a  sound,  as  of  some 
one  hobbling  toward  him.  Turning,  he  saw  Simon  Grid- 
ley  advancing,  as  fast  as  his  crutches  would  carry  him. 

The  fellow  was  grinning,  as  was  usual.  He  sank  down 
to  a  crouching  position,  and  fell  to  looking  at  Philip 
with  furtive  curiosity. 

"'Spose  he'll  die?"  the  youth  abruptly  asked,  in  a 
thin,  husky  tone. 

"Whom?"  Temple  returned. 

«  Mr.  Stacy?" 

« I  hope  not." 


112  THE   HEART  OF  A  WOMAN. 

"  Be  you  goin'  to  stay  here  till  he  gets  well?" 

"  I  dont't  know." 

"  Stay  'slong  as  the  Boyntons  do,  won't  ye?" 

« I  think  not." 

"  I  should  think  you  would." 

"Why?" 

"  'Cause  she's  so  han'some  and  sets  so  much  by  ye!" 

The  gathering  shadows,  fortunately,  hid  the  burning 
flush  which  mantled  the  cheeks  and  brow  of  Philip  at 
the  blunt  remark  of  the  strange  youth. 

"What  do  you  mean,  you  young  simpleton?"  Temple 
angrily  exclaimed. 

"  Oh,  nothin'  much." 

"  Do  you  know,  I've  a  mind  to  teach  you  better  man- 
ners ?  "  rhilip  wrathf ully  cried. 

The  youth  recoiled,  in  some  trepidation. 

"  Don't  hurt  me.  I  didn't  mean  nothin',  I  tell  ye," 
he  declared. 

"  Then  see  that  you  keep  a  civil  tongue  in  your  head 
in  future. 

The  young  man  rose  as  he  uttered  this  warning,  and 
entered  the  house. 


CALM    DESPAIB.  113 


•-CHAPTEK   XV11L 

CALM    DESPAIB. 

"What  words  are  these  have  falTn  from  me  I 
Can  calm  despair  and  wild  unrest 
Be  tenants  of  a  single  breast, 
Or  sorrow  each  a  changeling  be?  " 

—In  Memoriam. 

The  two  succeeding  days  were  comparatively  unevent- 
ful ones  at  the  Gridley  dwelling.  The  fears  concerning 
Stacy's  injury  were  realized.  He  was  a  very  sick  man, 
and  required  constant  attention.  The  nurse  procured  at 
the  village  was  inexperienced  and  inefficient,  and  Chester 
Boynton  and  Philip  Temple  shared  almost  equally  in  the 
superintendence  and  care  of  the  unfortunate  man. 

Mrs.  Boynton  lent  a  kind  also,  in  the  gentle,  quiet 
way  which  belongs  to  her  csx.  But  between  herself  and 
Chester  a  tacit  coldness  continued. 

That  he  knew  the  cause  of  delay  upon  the  day  of 
her  arrival  she  was  aware.  Hence  she  felt  that  an  apology 
for  his  hasty  judgment  was  due  both  herself  and  Philip. 

But  no  apology  was  made.  He  did  not  seem  to  be 
watching  them ;  outwardly,  no  one  could  discern  a  trace 
of  jealousy  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Boynton. 

Philip  and  Tracy  met  at  the  table;  and  when  her  hus- 
band was  at  the  bedside  of  the  patient,  they  sometimes 
strolled  out  upon  the  lawn  together,  chatting  in  a  light 
vein,  and  making  no  reference  to  her  unhappiness,  or  to 
former  days. 

Upon  the  third  morning  Mr.  Stacy  was  somewhat  bet- 
ter, and  Philip  announced  in  the  presence  of  Chester  and 
Tracy  his  intention  to  return  to  the  Webb  cottage. 

"  I  have  been  neglecting  my  own  work  too  long 
already,"  he  declared,  "  and  it  is  time  that  I  bestirred 
myself.  For,  you  will  remember,  I  am  not  simply  idling 
away  a  summer  vacation.  I  am  gathering  scraps  and 
sketches  of  rural  scenery,  to  use  in  my  designs  for  engrav- 
8  


1 14:  CALM  DESPAIR. 

ing.  Next  month  I  am  to  illustrate  several  magazine 
serials,  and  I  must  have  an  abundance  of  fresh  material 
in  my  sketch  book  to  select  from." 

To  this  announcement  Tracy  made  no  response — at 
least,  not  then.  Chester  merely  said : 

"  We  shall  miss  you,  of  course.  But  you  know  best 
what  you  can  do.  The  nurse  and  I  can  handle  Stacy's 
case  now,  without  over-taxing  either  of  us." 

Philip  arranged  to  return  the  next  morning. 

Toward  nightfall  he  saw  Tracy  walking  leisurely  out 
upon  the  road.  She  appeared  to  be  on  an  aimless  stroll ; 
and  it  occurred  to  Philip  that  he  might  not  again  have 
an  opportunity  to  speak  with  her  before  his  departure. 
Hence,  under  an  irresistible  impulse  he  started  out  bent 
upon  overtaking  her. 

When  he  reached  the  road  she  had  disappeared  beyond 
a  curve,  and  he  quickened  his  steps,  fearing  that  he 
should  miss  the  opportunity.  Reaching  a  huge  oak  by 
the  roadside,  he  came  upon  Tracy  in  the  act  of  gathering 
a  mass  of  golden  rod,  which  grew  plentifully  in  that  spot. 
She  did  not  notice  his  approach  until  he  was  at  her  side. 

"  So  you  came,"  she  exclaimed,  slowly  facing  about. 

"  Did  you  expect  me  to  follow  you?"  he  eagerly  re- 
turned, strangely  thrilled  by  her  words  and  expression. 

"  I  thought  it  was  like  you  to  follow,"  she  replied. 

He  looked  at  her  keenly.  Was  she  ridiculing  him? 
She  had  stopped  breaking  the  long  stems  of  golden  rod ; 
that  which  she  had  already  gathered  she  permitted  to 
fall  to  the  ground. 

"I  did  not  iniend  to  intrude  against  your  wishes," 
Philip  gravely  said.  She  was  silent,  and,  with  a  vague 
sense  of  disappointment  he  turned  away. 

"  Stay!  "  she  exclaimed. 


He  faced  about,  and  saw  that  she  was  smiling. 
"  I  didn't  tell  you  to  go,"  she  added. 
"  I  inferred  that  you  looked  upon  my  following  you 
i  an  intrusion." 
"  You  had  no  right  to  infer  anything  of  the  kind.    I 


CALM  DESPAIR.  115 

expected  you  to  come,  and  I  should  have   been   disap- 
pointed if  you  had  not." 

This  was  sufficiently  plain,  and  he  was  at  her  side  in 
a  moment. 

"  I  thought  I  would  bid  you  good-by  before  I  went 
back,"  he  said,  his  voice  very  low. 

"We  might  have  bid  each  other  adieu  at  the  house," 
she  suggested. 

"And  you  think  it  would  have  been  the  better  way? " 

"Perhaps.  But  I  wished  to  say  something  more  to 
you." 

"What  is  it?" 

She  hesitated.  Then  she  suddenly  buried  her  face  in 
her  hands,  giving  vent  to  a  burst  of  weeping  which, 
evidently,  she  had  restrained  until  this  moment  only  by 
strong  self-control. 

The  evidence  of  her  anguish  sent  a  yet  keener  pain  to 
the  heart  of  Philip  Temple.  He  did  not  pause  to  con- 
sider the  (juestionableness  of  the  act.  His  sympathy 
and  love  gained,  for  the  time,  complete  control,  and  he 
was  in  a  mood  to  defy  right  or  wrong.  He  drew  nearer, 
and  seized  her  hands  in  both  his  own,  gently  drawing 
them  away  from  her  face. 

"  Tracy !''  he  cried,  in  a  low,  passionate  tone.  "  How 
long  is  this  to  continue?  It  is  breaking  my  heart  to  see 
you  suffer  so,  without  the  power  of  comforting  or  aiding 
you!  It  seems  bitterly  wrong  that,  when  one  is  in 
trouble,  one's  truest  friend  may  not  bestow  his  sympathy 
and  counsel  unchecked." 

She  did  not  withdraw  her  hands  from  his  strong,  steady 
grasp.  Her  eyes,  full  of  tears,  looked  up  into  his. 

"What  has  he  been  saying  to  you?"  he  asked,  after  a 
moment  of  eloquent  silence. 

"  Nothing,"  she  answered. 

"  Has  nothing  new  occurred  ?  Have  you  not — quarreled 
again?" 

"  No.    We  have  not  quarreled.    But  he  treats  me  so 


116  CALM  DESPAIR. 

coldly.  He  knows  that  he  has  wronged  me,  yet  he  ap- 
pears as  though  the  opposite  were  the  case." 

She  hesitated  again.  And  then,  speaking  rapidly  she 
continued: 

"  I  feel  that  it  is  wrong  for  me  to  confide  in  you  thus. 
But  what  else  can  I  do  ?  Can  I  submit  tamely  to  his  in- 
justice? I  wish  you  would  tell  me  what  to  do.  I  would 
abide  by  your  dicision.  You  have  proven  yourself  better, 
nobler  than  I  ever  dreamed  you  could  be.  What  shall  I 
do?  Tell  me— tell  me!" 

How  beautiful  she  was,  in  her  anguish  and  helpless- 
ness. What  could  Philip  Temple  advise,  loving  her  as 
he  did?  Could  he  tell  her  to  go  to  her  husband  and 
throw  herself  at  his  feet,  begging  that  they  might  be 
reconciled  ?  Did  she  really  desire  a  reconciliation  with 
Chester  Boynton  ? 

Philip  Temple  had  more  than  once  convinced  himself 
that  Tracy  did  not  love  her  husband  at  all.  He  had  ar- 
rived, long  ago,  at  a  conviction  that,  in  spite  of  the  bonds 
binding  her  to  another,  she  loved  him!  If  this  were  true, 
what  advice  could  he  offer? 

The  situation  was  one  in  which  he  could  not  reason 
calmly.  The  charm  of  her  nearness  was  upon  him.  They 
were  alone,  amid  the  gathering  tints  of  twilight;  her 
hands  rested  unresistingly  in  his;  he  could  hear  the  tu- 
multuous throbbing  of  her  heart  in  the  breathless  silence. 

He  bent  his  face  nearer  hers ;  for  a  brief  space  of  time 
he  cast  off  the  restraint  upon  his  emotions  which  he  had 
only  maintained  under  a  most  severe  tension  of  control. 

"Oh,  my  darling!"  he  exclaimed,  scarce  above  a 
whisper.  "  Yes,  I  will  say  it,  Tracy — I  must  say  it,  if 
you  kill  me — if  he  kills  me,"  he  went  on,  as  her  hands 
fluttered  in  his  like  imprisoned  birds.  "  I  love  you,  as 
the  saints  love  heaven !  By  divine  right,  you  belong  to 
me — you  never  belonged  to  him.  You  made  a  terrible 
mistake ;  you  never  cared  for  him  as  you  ought ;  you  have 
cared  more  for  me  from  the  first." 

The  look  of  mingled  anguish  and  apprehension  that 


CALM  DESPAIR.  117 

into  her  eyes  condemned  him  even  as  he  spoke. 
But,  like  a  torrent  which  has  once  broken  forth  from  its 
bounds,  his  passionate  utterance  ran  on  unmindful  of 
the  pain  he  might  inflict,  or  the  lasting  disgrace  or  terri- 
ble consequences  which  he  might  entail  upon  her  as  well 
as  himself. 

"  You  do  not  deny  it,"  he  continued,  his  tones  grow- 
ing less  vehement  and  more  eager.  "  Your  face,  your 
eyes,  your  silence,  your  trembling,  all  tell  me  the  sweet, 
yet  bitter  truth.  Let  your  lips  utter  it  also — just  once! 
Say  that  you  do,  that  you  have  loved  me — say  it  with 
your  lips !  And  then,  if  you  bid  me  leave  you,  and  go 
to  the  farthest  ends  of  the  earth,  I  will  meekly  obey. 
But  I  cannot  go  without  the  boon  I  ask — the  boon  of 
that  sweetest  of  words,  if  it  be  only  whispered,  or  shaped 
by  those  lips!  Tracy,  Tracy!  Why  are  you  silent  ?" 

She  had  grown  deathly  white  while  he  was  speaking. 
It  was  plain  that  he  was  subjecting  her  to  a  terrible 
strain.  Her  lips  fluttered,  she  struggled  to  free  her 
hands,  she  recoiled  from  him,  as  though  in  sudden  horror. 

"  Philip — Mr.  Temple — why,  why  — ."  Her  utterance 
seemed  choked;  she  tottered  in  sudden,  over-powering 
f aintness ;  he  caught  her,  white  and  silent,  in  his  arms ; 
she  had  swooned. 

But  those  faltered  words,  and  the  look  of  horror  upon 
her  countenance  brought  him,  with  a  shock,  to  a  full 
realization  of  what  he  had  said — of  what  he  had  im- 
plored her  to  confess.  In  that  moment  Philip  Temple 
loathed  himself,  as  he  'could  have  loathed  no  other  hu- 
man being.  To  have  been  the  instrument  of  inflicting 
such  pain  to  this  helpless,  friendless  woman;  to  cause 
her  to  swoon  in  very  norror  at  his  vehement,  sinful  ut- 
terance— what  greater  punishment  could  an  avenging 
angel  have  inflicted  upon  the  sensitive  soul  of  a  man ! 

So  absorbed  was  he  that  he  did  not  hear  the  sound  of 
passing  wheels.  And  not  until  Tracy  was  resuscitated, 
and  he  had  accompanied  her  in  silence  back  to  the  house, 
was  he  aware  that  there  had  been  a  new  arrival  at  the 
Gridley  dwelling. 


118  SHE  RELENTS  WITH  PITY. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

SHE   RELENTS   WITH   PITY. 

"  First  she  relents 
With  pity;  of  that  pity  then  repents."  — Prior. 

There  is  nothing  so  alluring  as  the  paths  which  lead 
to  danger. 

They  are  strewn  with  fairest  flowers,  redolent  with  in- 
toxicating perfumes,  and  bright  with  the  witching  glamor 
of  silvery  moonlight.  Hope,  and  pleasure,  and  delight 
lay  invitingly  before;  while  darkness  and  difficulty  close 
in  behind.  The  descent  is  easy  and  agreeable;  but  to  re- 
turn, the  way  lies  over  seemingly  inaccessible  heights 
which  we  have  not  the  heart  nor  the  strength  to  climb. 

Such  had  been  the  experience  of  Philip  Temple  ;  and 
in  a  lesser  degree  it  was  also  that  of  Mrs.  Boynton. 

The  fact  of  the  frequent  disagreements  between  Tracy 
and  her  husband  had  led  the  latter  to  seek  the  more  agree- 
able society  of  her  former  lover.  In  doing  this  she  had 
no  intention  of  wrong,  in  act  or  thought.  There  is  a 
purity  of  heart  which  is  above  self -distrust.  Such  was 
ners.  A  suggestion  of  wrong  was  a  shock  to  her — hence 
the  keenness  of  her  resentment  under  the  jealous  charges 
of  her  husband,  for  not  once  had  she  entertained  an  un- 
faithful thought. 

That  she  was  pleased  by  Philip's  companionship  could 
not  be  denied.  She  knew,  from  the  moment  of  their 
meeting  upon  the  mountain-side  that  she  still  possessed 
the  truest  devotion  of  his  heart.  This  she  could  not  help. 
She  could  not  blame  him,  either,  for  his  passion  had  be- 
gun, and  matured,  when  it  had  a  right  to  do  so.  She 
even  felt  that,  in  some  way,  she  ought  to  show  him  that 
she  admired  his  fidelity,  which  in  men  is  so  rare;  and  in 
cultivating  friendly  relations,  and  attempting  to  throw 
off  the  embarrassing  restraint  which  the  memory  of  the 


SHE   RELENTS  WITfl   PITY.  119 

past  might  exercise  over  them,  she  overstepped  the  bounds 
of  prudence. 

In  all  this  she  was  innocent.  Even  the  secret  delight 
which  she  felt  in  still  possessing  Temple's  preference  was 
innocent,  because  she  did  not  realize  the  possible  danger 
of  entertaining  it. 

It  is  a  pleasure  to  woman  to  be  beloved.  There  is  a 
subtle  fascination  in  the  possession  of  this  power  over 
hearts — a  fascination  which  sometimes  leads  to  danger, 
sometimes  to  coquetry,  and  often  to  life -long  misery. 
Yet,  in  the  beginning,  danger  and  misery  are  unthougnt 
of. 

"With  Tracy  and  Philip  there  had  been  a  steady,  swift 
drifting  toward  the  crisis  which  had  now  been  reached. 

The  point  beyond  which  Temple's  generous,  honorable 
nature  could  not  safely  go  had  been  passed,  and  with  the 
result  which  in  another  ne  would  have  been  keen  enough 
to  foresee. 

Ah!  if  those  passionate  words  could  only  be  recalled  ! 
If,  with  his  newly  learned  wisdom,  he  could  only  be  per- 
mitted to  go  back,  and  exercise  the  self-control  and  pru- 
dence which  were  now  possible  to  him. 

Before  his  departure  the  next  morning  he  only  saw 
Mrs.  Boynton  for  a  brief  instant  as  they  both  chanced  to 
meet  in  a  room  through  which  they  were  hastily  passing. 

Her  face  was  very  pale ;  but  as  she  met  his  glance,  he 
saw  pity,  reproach,  yet  no  anger  expressed  in  her  look. 

"  You  can  not  condemn  me  so  utterly  as  I  condemn 
myself,  Mrs.  Boynton,"  he  said,  in  a  low,  unsteady  tone. 

"  The  fault  was  not  wholly  yours ;  I  led  you  to  it,  in 
my  own  blindness,"  she  answered. 

For  a  moment  he  lingered.  Then,  turning  away,  he 
hastily  said : 

"  1  ou  had  best  tell  your  husband  all,  and  then  he  will 
condemn  me  and  not  you.  I  do  not  misunderstand  you 
now.  Mr.  Boynton  will  honor  you  when  he  knows  the 
truth." 

He  did  not  say  good-by,  nor  did  she  resp  ond  to  his 


120  SHfi  RELENTS   WITH   PITY. 

parting  injunction.  Both  passed  on,  and  a  few  moments 
later  Philip  Temple  was  being  driven  rapidly  away  from 
the  Gridley  dwelling. 

Tracy  had  not  yet  seen  Mr.  Brock,  although  she  knew 
the  evening  before  that  he  had  arrived.  But  as  she  en- 
tered the  next  room,  she  met  him  face  to  face. 

"  Couldn't  keep  away  from  your  husband  forever,  you 
see,"  he  declared,  with  his  slow,  cold  smile. 

She  barely  touched,  with  her  fingers,  the  hand  which 
he  extended  in  greeting.  She  could  scarce  repress  a 
shudder  in  the  contact.  He  could  not  have  failed  to  note 
her  aversion,  and  just  the  suspicion  of  a  frown  for  a 
moment  darkened  his  brow. 

But  his  tones  lost  none  of  their  affability,  as  he  con- 
tinued speaking. 

"  They  miss  you  at  the  hotel  at  a  tremendous  rate,  Mrs. 
Boynton,"  he  continued.  He  had  retreated  to  a  window, 
through  which  a  flood  of  yellow  sunlight  was  shining. 

"  Miss  Wentworth,  in  particular,  desired  me  to  inquire 
if  you  were  not  coming  back  pretty  soon.  She  was 
decidedly  down-in-the-moutn  yesterday.about  nothing.  So 
much  so  that  she  seemed  actually  to  enjoy  my  society. 
Another  falling  out  with  that  fickle  lover  of  hers,  it's 
likely.  Pity  they  couldn't  separate  for  good!" 

Mr.  Brock  shrugged  his  shoulders  as  he  voiced  this  sen- 
timent. 

Tracy  found  herself  strangely  fascinated  by  his  remarks. 
She  experienced  a  wish  to  combat  him,  in  some  way;  for 
his  every  characteristic  and  expressed  opinion  was  repel- 
"  lant  to  her. 

"  Why  do  you  wish  them  to  separate?"  she  demanded, 
a  flash  of  indignation  in  her  tones. 

"  Better  for  them  both,"  he  tersely  replied. 

"And  why  better?"  she  persisted. 

"  Save  separating  when  it  would  be  more  embarrassing 
all  around.  Lovers  can  part,  and  their  good  names  will 
survive.  But  married  people  kick  up  the  biggest  kind  of 


SHE  RELENTS  WITH   PITY.  121 

a  dust  with  their  reputations  in  separating,  or  getting 
divorced." 

If  there  was  a  hidden  significance  in  this  remark,  Tracy 
failed  to  preceive  it. 

"  Because  they  quarrel  now  is  no  indication  that  they 
may  not  live  happily  when  married,"  she  warmly  as- 
serted. 

"  Isn't  it?"     He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  laughed. 

"  Perhaps  not,"  he  added. 

"Do you  think  it  is?" 

She  seemed  bent  upon  showing  her  antagonism. 

"  I  suppose  not,  if  you  say  so.  You've  married  and 
I'm  a  bachelor.  So  we  have  a  right  to  differ,  though 
your  ideas  are  entitled  to  more  respect  than  mine." 

The  innuendo  conveyed  was  not  lost  upon  Tracy. 

Her  face  flushed  with  sudden  anger. 

"Why  do  you  say  that?"  she  demanded. 

"I  don't  know — my  oddity,  I  suppose." 

"  I  believe  you  meant  to — to  insult  me,"  she  cried. 

"Oh,  no!  Beg  pardon.  I  thought  we  were  friendly. 
But  never  mind — \pe  can  disagree  and  still  be  friends, 
can't  we?  Your  husband  is  a  famous  friend  of  mine.  He 
understands  me.  You  are  a  little  prejudiced  on  account 
of  something  offensive  in  my  looks  or  speech.  But  I'm 
not  to  blame  for  either.  I've  no  ill  will  toward  you.  I'm 
blunt  in  my  ways ;  I'm  odd,  and  inclined  to  be  cold  when 
everybody  else  is  too  warm.  That's  constitutional.  We 
won't  quarrel  about  the  temperature.  I'll  stand  in  the  sun 
and  you  may  stay  out  of  it,  and  then  we'll  both  by  com- 
fortable—eh?" 

Tracy's  indignation  was  restrained  only  by  a  strong 
effort. 

She  was  convinced  that  this  man  liked  her  no  better 
than  she  liked  him.  Yet  he  was  an  enigma  to  her.  She 
could  not  analyze  the  cause  for  her  own  antipathy. 

"  You  have  no  right  to  wish  others  to  be  unhappy  be- 
cause you  can  not  sympathize  with  them  in  their  joys," 
she  said,  more  deliberately. 


122  Sfill  RELENTS  WITH  PITY. 

"  That's  true,  Mrs.  Boynton,"  lie  returned,  with 
another  shrug  and  smile. 

"  I  own,"  he  continued,  "  that  I  don't  faucy  this  love- 
making.  I  may  have  my  reasons,  and  I  may  not.  But 
I  don't  like  it.  There's  more  unhappiness  than  good  in 
it,  the  world  over.  Read  history,  biography,  anything 
but  romance,  and  you'll  find  it  so.  But  that's  no  reason 
why  1  should  interfere  by  a  word,  I  admit.  You're  right 
and  I'm  wrong,  same  as  you  are  when  you  say  the  day  is 
warm  and  I  say  it's  cold.  This  is  a  cold  day  to  me.  To 
you  it's  warm,  else  you'd  change  that  pretty,  sleazy  white 
gown  for  a  warmer  one.  You  see  we  caii't  argue  from 
the  same  standpoint.  But  we  won't  quarrel,  eh! — go- 
ing? No  offense,  I  hope?" 

"  None,"  she  coldly  replied,  passing  from  the  room. 

Did  she  imagine  it,  or  did  she  hear  a  low  chuckle  from 
Mr.  Brock,  as  the  door  closed  between  them? 

He  had  arrived  sometime  the  evening  before — she  did 
not  know  when.  Philip  had  watched  with  Stacy,  and 
Mr.  Boynton  had  retired  early  for  a  sound  night's  sleep, 
so  it  was  doubtful  if  Chester  and  Brock  more  than  ex- 
changed greetings  the  night  of  the  latter's  arrival. 

But  before  the  day  had  passed,  they  took  one  of  their 
customary  strolls  together.  They  were  absent  longer 
than  usual,  and  when  they  returned  Mr.  Boynton  went 
directly  to  attend  upon  Stacy.  His  wife  only  met  him 
at  the  table  again  that  day,  and  then  she  was  struck  by  a 
strange,  cold  pallor  which  had  settled  upon  his  counte- 
nance. 

"  Are  you  ill,  Chester?"  she  questioned,  as  for  a  moment 
they  were  left  alone. 

"  No,"  he  answered,  without  looking  at  her. 

"What,  then,  has  happened?" 

"Nothing.". 

'•  You  are  very  pale." 

"Ami?" 

She  went  up  to  him  and  placed  one  hand  upon  his 
arm. 


SHE  .RELENTS  WITH  PITY.  123 

"  I  wish  we  might  understand  each  other  better!  "  she 
exclaimed,  her  tones  full  of  eagerness. 

He  did  not  look  at  her.  A  scornful  smile  wreathed 
his  lips. 

"  I  think  we  know  each  other  full  well  already,"  he 
replied. 

"Are  you  not  willing  to  be  at  peace  with  me?  Can 
you  not  listen  to  what  I  have  to  say?" 

The  glance  which  he  sent  into  her  face  caused  her  to 
recoil  in  startled  dismay. 

"There  are  extenuating  circumstances j  and  I  shall 
not  be  uncharitable!"  he  said,  in  a  tone  that  seemed  to 
freeze  the  blood  in  her  veins. 

The  housekeeper  came  in  at  that  moment,  and  Chester 
abruptly  repaired  to  Stacy's  room. 

She  did  not  see  him  again  that  night.  In  the  morning, 
as  she  came  down  stairs,  she  met  the  younger  Gridley  in 
the  small  entry -way. 

The  youth  leaned  his  chin  upon  one  crutch  and  looked 
quizzically  up  into  her  face. 

"  Didn't  you  Know  he'd  gone? "  he  asked,  in  his  nasal 
tones. 

"Gone! — whom?"  she  returned. 

"Both  of 'em!" 

"Not — my  husband?" 

"  Yes,  and  the  cold  chap." 

"Where  did  they  go?" 

"Idunno." 

"This  morning?" 

"No,  last  night.  With  a  team.  I  thought  you  didn't 
know.  Gi'n  ye  the  slip." 

Tracy  clasped  her  hands,  a  sudden  sense  of  nameless 
horror  sweeping  over  her. 

Chester  and  Mr.  Brock  gone — and  they  went  last 
night! 

What,  what  did  it  mean  ?  Perhaps  she  was  impressed 
by  a  premonition  of  what  the  dreadful  sequel  was  to  be^ 


124  TO  NO  REMORSE. 


CHAPTEE  XX. 

TO    NO    REMORSE. 

"Curse  on  the  unpardoning  prince  \vhom  tears  can  draw 
To  no  remorse." 

— Dryden. 

Philip  Temple  spent  the  day — or  all  that  remained  of 
it — after  his  arrival  at  the  Webb  cottage  in  the  most  as- 
siduous labor. 

He  ascended  to  the  very  summit  of  the  mountain  with 
indefatigable  determination,  and  sketched,  from  various 
points  of  view,  the  landscape  spread  below. 

His  excessive  industry  was  prompted  by  two  impulses. 
The  first,  was  to  relieve  the  sense  of  remorse  which  was 
feeding  upon  his  mind ;  the  second,  a  desire  to  make  use 
of  the  rare  scenery  before  he  should  be  obliged  to  leave 
the  spot. 

For  he  had  firmly  resolved  not  to  see  Tracy  Boynton 
again.  Upon  her  arrival  at  the  hotel,  he  would  leave  the 
vicinity  for  good,  to  avoid  all  chance  of  meeting  her. 

Not  that  he  distrusted  his  power  of  self-control.  There 
was  no  further  danger  of  his  yielding  to  an  overpower- 
ing sweep  of  passion,  even  if  the  opportunity  or  temp- 
tation were  presented.  •  The  lesson  had  been  thoroughly, 
terribly  learned.  He  loathed  his  own  weakness ;  his  re- 
spect for  Tracy's  purity  of  soul  was  profound;  he  could 
meet  her  now  daily  without  danger.  He  was  now  capa- 
ble of  alertness  in  the  avoidance  of  what  might  be  con- 
strued into  an  appearance  of  evil. 

Therefore  it  was  not  for  this  that  he  desired  to  avoid 
meeting  Mrs.  Boynton  again.  His  true  reason  was  a 
simple  one.  He  feared  that  he  might  prove  an  obstacle 
to  the  final  reconciliation  of  husband  and  wife,  through 
the  jealousy  which  had  already  been  excited  in  the  for- 
mer. 

"  He  shall  have  her  entirely  to  himself,  as  he  ought," 


TO  NO  EEMOKSE.  125 

he  mentally  decided.  "I  will  not  even  obtrude  my 
friendship.  And  beside,  what  I  said  to  her  in  that  mad 
moment,  though  forgiven,  cannot  pass  wholly  from  the 
memory.  Therefore  it  would  be  hard  for  us  ever  to  re- 
gain anything  like  a  natural  demeanor  in  each  other's 
presence.  I  shall  go  away,  and  if  we  meet  in  after  years 
she  shall  have  no  cause  to  shrink  from  me,  nor  her  hus- 
band to  regard  me  with  distrust." 

Such  reflections  as  these  flitted  through  his  mind  dur- 
ing the  entire  day,  while  he  was  busy  with  eye  and  pencil. 

Never  had  he  been  capable  of  clearer  discernment  in 
the  beauties  of  nature  than  upon  that  memorable  day. 
Never  had  his  hand  been  so  deft  in  its  execution,  nor  so 
facile  in  perfection. 

So  much  good  work,  done  within  so  short  a  period,  had 
never  been  possible  to  him  before.  It  is  a  singular,  yet 
well  proven  fact  that  sometimes  we  flnd  ourselves  capa- 
ble or  marvelously  perfect  work  while  laboring  under 
severe  mental  or  physical  depression.  There  is  at  such 
times  a  preternatural  exaltation  of  the  intellect  by  which 
the  brain  is  stimulated  beyond  its  normal  capacity,  while 
the  hand  gains  a  trueness  of  touch  never  attained  before. 

Philip  returned  to  the  cottage  at  nightfall  and  partook 
of  a  light  supper.  Then  he  started  forth  again. 

Near  the  house  he  encountered  Jason  Webb. 

"  Not  going  to  investigate  that  mystery  to-night,  be 
you?"  the  young  farmer  questioned. 

"  No.  I  wish  to  make  a  few  moonlight  sketches,  for 
which  the  evening  promises  to  be  especially  fine,"  was 
the  reply. 

"Going  fur?" 

"  Up  the  mountain  a  short  distance." 

"  Don't  want  any  company,  I  'spose?" 

Philip  hesitated. 

Ordinarily  he  would  not  have  objected  to  the  society 
of  the  good-humored  young  man.  But  to-night  he  was 
in  no  mood  for  talking  or  listening.  Beside,  he  could 
work  faster  alone.  So  he  replied : 


126  TO  NO  EEMOBSE. 

"  You  will  pardon  me,  Mr.  Webb,  but  your  companion- 
ship is  too  agreeable.  I  can't  work  and  talk,  without 
spoiling  both.  And  if  you  are  with  me  I  shall  certainly 
talk,  so  the  work  will  have  to  suffer.  Otherwise,  I  should 
be  only  too  glad  to  have  you  with  me." 

"  That's  all  right,  of  course.  Hope  you'll  have  good 
luck." 

"  Thank  you." 

Philip  turned  into  the  path,  leading  toward  the  sum- 
mer hotel — the  fateful  path  whence  the  mysterious  light 
was  visible.  He  went  only  a  few  yards  before  stopping 
to  glance  back.  He  saw  Jason  Webb  still  gazing  after 
him,  and  he  had  half  a  mind  to  alter  his  decision,  and  re- 
quest his  host  to  join  him. 

"Going  to  stay  out  late?"  Webb  called. 

"  Not  very,"  Temple  replied,  still  hesitating. 

"  Be  in  by  ten  o'clock,  I  suppose?" 

"  Yes,  or  before.  Don't  sit  up  for  me  however.  I 
sha'n't  want  to  stop  work  while  the  moon  shines  brightly. 
I  can  almost  see  to  sketch  without  my  lantern  with  such 
a  moon." 

Webb  turned  away  and  Temple  hastened  onward,  for 
the  sun  had  set  already,  and  the  red  glow  of  the  western 
horizon  was  fading  in  the  white  light  of  the  moon,  high 
in  the  heavens. 

Philip  ascended  the  mountain  by  a  side  path,  reaching 
a  bold,  jutting  rock  from  which  a-  view  of  the  whole  val- 
ley could  be  obtained. 

He  lighted  his  lantern,  adjusted  a  reflecting  shade  so 
as  to  throw  the  light  upon  his  paper,  and  then  com- 
menced work. 

Far  below  was  the  zigzag  road,  the  sand  gleaming 
white  in  contrast  with  the  dark  trees  beyond.  There 
were  glimpses  of  the  river,  its  surface  like  molten  silver; 
there  were  several  farm-houses,  from  which  lights  gleamed 
dully;  and  a  partial  view  of  the  red-roofed  hotel,  and 
several  summer  cottages  near  it  also  came  within  the 
scope  of  the  broad  picture, 


TO  NO  KEMOKSE.  127 

"With  such  an  enchanting  model  almost  anyone,  it 
seemed,  could  have  made  clever  sketches.  Philip  had  an 
artistic  eye,  and  not  a  point  of  the  perfect  landscape  es- 
caped his  appreciative  glance. 

The  time  passed  swiftly,  so  deeply  engaged  did  he  be- 
come in  his  task.  In  truth  the  material  for  pictures  con- 
stantly accumulated  without  a  change  of  position.  The 
moon,  gliding  along  the  azure  dome  made  a  constant 
change  of  outline,  shifting  the  shadows,  and  illuming  new 
points  which  had  before  been  hidden,  while  others  be- 
came obscured. 

But  presently  the  young  man  realized  that  he  could 
not  continue  his  work  much  longer.  A  glance  at  his 
watch  caused  him  to  leap  to  his  feet  in  surprise. 

Eleven  o'clock  already!  And  it  would  take  half  an 
hour,  at  the  least  calculation,  to  reach  the  cottage. 

He  commenced  the  descent  without  delay.  It  required 
care  to  pick  his  way,  and  he  presently  found  that  he  had 
missed  the  route  by  which  he  came  up,  and  was  following 
another,  though  easier  path.  At  length  he  reached  the 
main  path,  at  a  point  lying  between  the  spot  of  mystery 
and  the  summer  hotel.  Hence  he  would  be  obliged  to 
pass  the  "  haunted  "  place  to  reach  the  cottage. 

The  prospect  did  not  disturb  him  in  the  least.  He 
felt  some  curiosity  to  see  if  the  strange  light  would  be 
there  to  tantalize  his  interest. 

He  had  not  proceeded  a  dozen  steps  along  the  path, 
however,  before  he  became  aware  that  some  one  was  ad- 
vancing toward  him  from  the  direction  of  Webb's.  Was 
it  his  host,  alarmed  by  his  protracted  absence? 

He  had  not  long  to  wait  for  an  answer  to  his  query, 
for  he  came  face  to  face  with  the  other. 

"  Mr.  Boynton ! "  involuntarily  broke  from  Temple's 
lips,  as  the  other  halted,  barring  his  progress. 

"  So  we  have  met,"  Chester  Boynton  returned,  in  a 
low,  husky  tone. 

"  Yes.     But  what  has  happened?" 

Philip  was  struck  by  the  strange  tone  and  expression 


128  TO  NO  KEMOBSE. 

of  the  other.  That  something  had  occurred  he  was 
vaguely  conscious — something  of  a  startling  character. 

"  I  have  come  to  have  a  little  talk  with  you,"  Chester 
returned. 

"How  did  you  find  me?"  Philip,  in  his  bewilder- 
ment, did  not  know  what  else  to  say. 

"  I  called  at  the  Webb  cottage,  and  they  told  me  I 
should  meet  you  if  I  patrolled  this  path.  I  should  have 
persisted  in  aoing  so  if  I  had  not  found  you  until  morn- 
ing. Did  you  think  to  elude  me?  You  may  well  recoil, 
false  betrayer  of  my  confidence!" 

Philip  did  recoil.  There  was  something  apalling  in 
the  tone  and  look  of  Chester  Boynton. 

"  You  need  not  be  so  vehement,  Mr.  Boynton,"  Temple 
returned,  his  calmness  of  voice  in  marked  contrast  with 
the  harsh  tone  of  the  other. 

"  You  had  rather  I  would  be  mild  and  forgiving,  I 
doubt  not.  But  it  is  not  in  me  to  be  so.  I'm  very  hu- 
man." 

"  I  wish  you  would  make  a  coherent  charge,  that  I 
might  answer  it.  It  is  cowardly  to  attack  me  without 
permitting  me  to  arm  for  self-defense." 

"  Cowardly,  is  it?  You  are  a  fine  man  to  speak  of 
cowardice!  Why  didn't  you  remain  and  meet  my  wrath, 
like  a  man?  I  might  have  respected  you  then.  Instead, 
you  run  away,  like  the  base  poltroon  you  are." 

Temple  had  but  recently  learnt  the  lesson  of  self-con- 
trol, but  his  late  experience  served  to  restrain  him  at  this 
moment  from  what  might  have  been  a  rash,  unpardon- 
able act. 

"  Then  your  wife  has  told  you  of  my  base  folly? "  he 
managed  to  ask. 

"  £Ae  told  rne— no!" 

"  Then  what  do  you  know  that  you  did  not  know  be- 
fore I  came  away?  I  told  her  to  tell  you  all.  She  is 
blameless — 

"  Stop!  "  Boynton  cried,  interrupting. 


TO  NO  KEMOBSE.  129 

"  Do  you  expect  me  to  credit  a  word  you  say?"  lie  de- 
manded. 

"  You  may  do  as  you  wish.  Mrs.  Boynton  will  testify 
to  my  truthfulness." 

"  JS"o  doubt.  She  would  swear  to  anything  you  pleased. 
But  I  do  not  depend  upon  her  word  nor  yours.  I  have 
friends  who  will  not  allow  me  to  be  imposed  upon." 

With  startling  suddenness  the  truth  flashed  upon  the 
brain  of  Philip  Temple. 

"Brock — the  cold,  sneaking  villain — he  is  the  spy!" 
he  cried. 

"How  know  you  that?  I  would  not  have  betrayed 
him." 

"  1  know  it  because  no  one  else  is  capable  of  the  base 
action.  Who  else  would  attempt  to  part  man  and  wife, 
and  ruin  the  happiness  of  both?  It  is  he  who  has  poisoned 
your  mind  from  the  iirst." 

"  Well,  suppose  he  did,  if  the  truth  were  poison?" 

"  What  has  he  told  you,  Mr.  Boynton?  " 

"  Something  which  you  dare  not  deny ! " 

"  I  shall  deny  nothing  that  is  true.  But  I  desire  the 
privilege  of  explaining  to  you  whatever  may  appear  to 
you  in  so  terrible  a  light.  God  knows  that  I  deserve  almost 
the  worst  that  you  can  say  to  me;  but  I  wish  to  be  con- 
demned for  what  I  have  done,  and  not  for  what  I  have 
not  done.  And  I  insist  that  you  know  the  truth,  that 
your  wife  may  be  cleared  from  every  shadow  of  doubt. 
You  may  well  doubt  me,  but  it  is  infamous  in  you  to  dis- 
trust her!" 

A  moment  of  silence  fell  between  them. 

The  breathing  of  the  two  men  was  audible  to  each 
other,  so  still  it  was  about  them. 

The  shadows  had  lengthened  and  deepened.  The  moon- 
light rested  upon  the  tree  tops,  and  upon  the  face  of  the 
mountain;  but  where  they  stood  it  was  growing  rapidly 
dark. 

"  What  you  say  sounds  very  fine,"  Boynton  said,  at 
last. 
9 


130  TO  NO  REMORSE. 

"  Will  you  allow  me  to  make  my  own  confession?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  listen." 

Philip  rapidly  detailed  what  had  passed  between  Tracy 
and  himself  at  the  Gridley  dwelling,  and  upon  their  jour- 
ney thither.  He  came  to  the  evening  before  his  departure 
from  Gridley's.  This  was  the  hardest  part  of  all.  He 
began,  repeating  every  word  of  that  preliminary  conver- 
sation with  Tracy,  which  had  preceded  his  own  passionate 
outburst.  Before  confessing  the  latter  he  hesitated. 

"  Go  on,"  Boynton  commanded.  "  You  haven't  reached 
the  climax  yet,  I  know.  Remember,  Mr.  Brock  passed 
at  a  very  important  moment.  Tell  the  whole — don't  you 
withhold  a  single  syllable!" 

"You  need  have  no  fears — I  shall  not  spare  myself," 
Temple  replied. 

And  he  did  not.  Everything  was  told.  And  in  con- 
clusion he  said: 

"  Now  you  know  the  truth — that  your  wife  is  as  noble 
as  you  could  wish  her  to  be;  that  her  honor  is  as  spotless 
as — " 

"Stop!"  Boynton  a^ain  cried.  His  hands  were 
clenched,  his  face  fairly  livid  with 


WOMANLF   INGENUITY.  131 


CHAPTER  XXL 

WOMANLY  INGENUITY. 

"Now  withered  murder,  with,  his  stealthy  pace, 
Moves  like  a  ghost.'' 

— Shafapeare. 

"Womanly  ingenuity  set  to  work  by  womanly  compassion." 

— Macaulay. 

"  Curl's  wa'n't  it  Jenny?" 

For  about  the  twentieth  time  in  the  last  hour  Jason  "Webb 
gave  utterance  to  this  query.  And  each  time  Jenny  re- 
plied: "  I  can't  help  worrying  about  it,  Jason!" 

I  was  of  Chester  Boynton's  strange  looks  when  he  had 
called  to  inquire  for  Philip  Temple  that  these  comments 
were  uttered. 

Boynton's  appearance  and  speech  filled  them  first,  with 
wonder  and  later  with  vague  alarm.  For  the  clock  had 
struck  twelve,  and  their  boarder  had  not  appeared. 

"  What  keeps  him  so  ?  You  don't  suppose —  Jenny 
interrupted  herself,  and  looked  into  the  face  of  her  hus- 
band. 

It  was  late  for  them  to  be  sitting  up ;  yet  they  were 
wide  awake.  The  oil  burned  low  in  the  lamp  which 
stood  on  the  table  between  them.  Jason  had  made  a 
pretense  of  reading  his  newspaper  for  some  time.  But 
now  he  flung  it  down  and  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  I'm  going  to  meet  him,"  he  declared,  decisively. 

"  May  be  he  won't  like  it,"  she  suggested. 

"  I  don't  care — he  may  lump  it,  then." 

"  I  guess  I'll  go,  too,"  said  Mrs.  Webb,  rising  and  throw- 
ing a  shawl  over  her  graceful  shoulders. 

"  What  for?"  her  husband  remonstrated. 

"  I  don't  want  to  stay  here  alone,"  was  the  cleverly 
contrived  response. 

"  Well,  come  along." 

They  went  out,  locking  the  door  after  them.  Only  the 
higher  points  of  the  landscape  were  now  lighted  by  the 


132  WOMANLY   INGENUITY. 

rays  of  the  declining  moon.  The  hollows  and  level 
spaces  were  all  in  shadow,  and  the  gloom  enshrouding 
them  constantly  deepened. 

They  struck  into  the  path,  and  walked,  at  first,  slowly, 
but  as  they  proceeded  quickening  their  pace. 

A  deathlike  stillness  reigned.  Occasionally  a  light 
breeze  whispered  in  the  tree-tops;  once,  at  a  great  dis- 
taiice  a  whippoorwill's  cry  was  faintly  audible.  The 
Webbs  paused  as  they  heard  it,  thinking  it  was  the  cry 
of  a  human  being.  But  they  speedily  discovered  their 
mistake,  and  moved  on  again. 

"  Do  you  suppose  we  shall  see  that  strange  light?" 
Jenny  queried,  clinging  close  to  the  arm  of  her  husband. 

"  Like  enough." 

"What  shall  we  do?" 

"  Let  it  shine.  Who  cares,  so  long  as  no  harm  is 
done?" 

"  There  was  harm  done  to  you  the  other  night." 

"  There  wouldn't  have  been  if  I  hadn't  been  careless." 

There  was  another  interval  of  silence.  Then  she  spoke 
again: 

"  It  is  strange  we  don't  meet  him!" 

"Mr.  Temple?" 

«  Yes." 

"  So  it  is.  I  wonder  what  Mr.  Boynton  wanted  of 
him?" 

"  I  don't  know.  And  yet — "  She  hesitated,  glancing 
cautiously  backward. 

"What  is  it,  Jenny?" 

"  I  heard  something  yesterday." 

-«  You  heard  what?" 

"A  piece  of  gossip,  you  will  say." 

"From  Rice's  wife?" 

"  She  got  it  from  some  of  the  servants  over  at  the  sum- 
mer hotel." 

"  Well,  what  did  she  hear." 

"You  don't  like  gossip,  Jason!"  She  laughed  mis- 
chievously, indicating  that  he  had  "  lectured  "  her  upon 


WOMAHLY 

the  weakness  of  her  sex  at  some  time  in  the  past,  for 
which  she  could  now  be  revenged. 

"  Well,  I  don't,  that's  certain,"  he  said  in  a  crestfallen 
way.  He  continued: 

"  But  I  thought  you  were  going  to  say  something  about 
Boynton — something  that  might  explain  his  strange  ap- 
pearance of  to-night." 

"  So  I  was." 

"  Then  go  on — don't  bother!" 

She  lowered  her  tones  almost  to  a  whisper. 

"They  say  that  Mr.  Temple — OUT  Mr.  Temple — and 
Mrs.  Boynton  think  a  great  deal  of  each  other,"  she  de- 
clared, with  slow  emphasis. 

"Eh!" 

"  And  that  they  were  engaged  before  she  married  this 
man.  If  that  is  true,  Mr.  Boynton  may  have  been  jeal- 
ous to-night." 

"  So  he  might,  if  it  is  true.  But  it  may  be  all  moon- 
shine. Those  servants  are  fearful  gossips,  and  Jimjs 
wife  is  a  whole  team  at  story -telling.  Don't  you  repeat 
it  to  a  soul,  Jenny!" 

"  You  needn't  be  afraid  of  my  doing  it.  I  oughtn't  to 
have  told  you,  I  suppose." 

"  Perhaps  not." 

They  were  silent  again.  They  had  reached  the  "  haunt- 
ed" spot,  and  both  involuntarily  glanced  toward  the 
place  where  the  mysterious  light  usually  shone. 

"  It  isn't  there,  for  a  wonder!"  Jason  exclaimed. 

They  passed  on  in  silence.  But  they  had  proceeded 
less  than  a  doeen  paces  when  Jenny  suddenly  came  to  a 
halt,  clutching  the  arm  of  her  companion. 

"What  is  that?" 

She  pointed  at  a  dark  object  lying  across  the  path. 

"A  log  of  wood — isn't  it?"  he  returned,  more  quiet- 
nerved.  They  both  advanced,  bent  nearer  the  object, 
and  then  recoiled,  an  ejaculation  breaking  from  the  lips 
of  Jason,  a  scream  from  his  wife. 

It  was  not  a  log  of  wood  lying  across  the  path.    It  was 


a  man,  and  he  lay  as  motionless  and  silent  as  though  he 
were  dead. 

"Oh,  mercy!" Mrs.  Webb  cried,  in  frantic  horror. 

"  Don't  take  on  so — he  may  not  be  dead,"  said  Jason, 
reassuringly. 

He  bent  over  the  motionless  form,  Jenny  standing 
near  with  clasped  hands  and  pallid  face.  The  figure  lay 
upon  its  face,  and  as  Webb  gently  turned  him  over  upon 
his  back,  he  saw  that  it  was  Philip  Temple — his  face 
blanched,  and  smeared  with  blood. 

"He  has  been  murdered!  Mr.  Boynton  murdered 
him!"  Jenny  exclaimed,  wringing  her  hands. 

"  Hush!"  admonished  her  husband.  "  It  isn't  safe  for 
you  to  say  that,  Jenny,"  he  continued.  "  We  hain't  no 
right  to  charge  the  crime  ag'in  anybody,  and  we  better 
be  careful.  Maybe  he  isn't  dead.  I  don't  b'lieve  he  is. 
He  isn't  cold,  anyhow.  But  we  mustn't  stand  here  and 
do  nothing.  Can't  you  run  over  to  the  hotel  and  tell 
'em?" 

"  No,  no!  I  can't  alone." 

"  Of  course  you  needn't.  I  hadn't  ought  to  asked  you. 
The  first  thing  is  to  see  if  he  is  alive,  and  if  he  is  the 
next  thing  is  to  get  him  to  the  house  as  lively  as  ever  we  can. 
If  he's  dead,  then  we  can  both  go  to  the  hotel  and  tell 
'em.  I  wish  lie  hadn't  called  to  inquire  for  Mr.  Temple 
at  our  house.  I  wish  we  didn't  know  nothing  about  it. 
We'll  be  witnesses  don't  you  see?" 

While  speaking,  Webb  had  not  been  idle.  He  tore 
open  the  young  man's  shirt  and  placed  his  hand  over  his 
heart. 

"Pie's  dead — no,  he  isn't!"  he  exclaimed,  in  rapid  con- 
tradiction. 

"  He's  alive,  but  scarcely.  Why  in  blazes  didn't  I 
fetch  my  lantern  ?  Can  you  help  me  to  carry  him,  so  that 
we  sha'n't  hurt  him  more'n  can  be  helped?  I'll  bear  his 
heft,  and  you  can  stiddy  him  a  little.  Ready  ?" 

She  was  ready.  Gently  they  raised  the  unfortunate 
young  man,  tears  from  Jenny's  eyes  falling  upon  his 


WOMANLY  itfGEtfmTY.  135 


white  face  as  they  did  so.  And  then,  slowly,  carefully 
they  made  their  way  toward  the  cottage.  Never  did  the 
distance  seem  so  great,  nor  the  path  so  full  of  stones  and 
pieces  of  dead  wood.  Their  arms  ached,  and  they  were 
in  a  fever  of  anxiety  for  fear  that  the  delay  would  pre- 
clude the  possibility  of  saving  the  young  man's  life. 

What  if  he  should  die  while  they  were  bearing  him  to 
the  cottage?  Would  it  not  have  better  to  have  left  him 
where  he  lay  and  hastened  for  help? 

They  saw  the  light  from  their  own  window  at  last. 
In  another  moment  they  had  entered,  and  the  young 
man,  white  and  dreadfully  still,  was  laid  upon  his  own 
bed. 

Once  more  Jason  felt  for  his  heart-beats,  and  once 
more  he  was  reassured. 

"  You.  hitch  up  the  team  and  ride  for  the  doctor," 
Jenny  exclaimed,  growing  brave  when  she  realized  that 
the  case  was  not  a  hopeless  one,  and  that  there  was  some- 
thing for  them  to  do. 

"I  will  get  some  water  hot,  and  see  if  I  can't  fetch 
him  to  while  you're  gone,"  she  continued,  beginning  to 
bustle  around  the  rooms. 

She  brought  out  a  bottle  of  brandy,  which  was  kept  in 
the  house  "against  a  case  of  sickness,"  and  forced  a  few 
drops  of  it  between  the  closed  lips  of  the  patient.  A 
fire  was  made  to  burn  in  the  kitchen  range,  and  the  tea- 
kettle sang  as  merrily  as  though  it  were  not  a  most 
dreadful  and  solemn  occasion. 

Jason  did  not  stop  a  moment.  Jenny  hearR  the  rattle 
of  his  buggy  as  he  drove  away  down  the  road,  and  said  to 
herself: 

"He  won't  be  gone  long,  I  know,  and  when  the  doctor 
comes  we  shall  know  the  worst.  I  do  hope  he'll  live.  It 
is  so  dreadful  to  have  a  murder  committed  almost  in  your 
own  family,  as  you  might  say.  And  beside,  I  don't  be- 
lieve Mr.  Temple  deserves  such  a  dreadful  fate.  He  is 
an  honest  looking  chap,  and  that  frank  "in  his  ways  that 
nobody  would  suspect  him  of  doing  wrong.  And  a  gen- 


tleman,  too,  though  not  ashamed  to  talk  with  poor  folks 
like  Jason  and  me  as  though  we  were  as  good  as  he." 

Thus  the  busy  woman  ran  on,  keeping  herself  company 
with  the  sound  of  her  own  cheery  voice.  And  all  the 
while  she  worked  over  the  unfortunate  young  man. 

There  was  no  wound  upon  the  latter  save  upon  his  head. 
He  had  been  felled  by  a  heavy  blow  upon  the  temple. 

There  were  other  bruises  about  his  head,  as  though  his 
assailant  had  followed  up  his  cruel  attack  even  after  his 
victim  was  defenseless. 

Mrs.  "Webb  had  plenty  of  presence  of  mind  and  a 
liberal  degree  of  good  sense,  therefore  her  ministrations 
to  the  injured  man  were  not  wholly  unsuccessful ;  and  she 
certainly  rendered  his  chances  no  worse,  as  too  many 
might  have  done  under  the  circumstances. 

The  rattle  of  wheels  sounded  at  last.  The  door  was 
opened  without  ceremony,  and  a  short,  round-faced  man 
came  in.  He  nodded  to  Jenny,  went  directly  to  the  bed- 
side of  Mr.  Temple,  and  bent  over  the  latter. 

Jason  came  in  just  as  the  doctor  had  finished  his  ex- 
amination. 

"A  bad  case!"  declared  the  physician,  deliberately 
facing  the  eager  watchers. 


y 

HER  FAILING.  137 


CHAPTEK  XXII. 

HER   FAILING. 

"  Her  failing,  while  her  faith  to  me  remains,  I  would  conceal." 

— Milton. 

It  was  early  the  next  morning  that  a  horse  and  car- 
riage drew  up  before  Vinton's  retreat.  It  was  a  livery 
team  from  the  neighboring  village;  and  it  was  a  stable 
boy  who  alighted  and  assisted  his  lady  passenger  to  do 
the  same. 

"  Tracy — is  it  you  ?"  cried  Lou  "Wentworth,  who  was 
an  early  riser,  and  was  consequently  out  upon  the  ver- 
anda, watching  the  white  mist  as  it  was  wafted  away 
across  the  valley  by  the  light  breeze.  As  her  gaze  fell 
upon  the  countenance  of  her  friend,  however,  a  cry  of 
alarm  broke  from  her  lips. 

"What  is  it? — what  has  happened?"  she  eagerly  ques- 
tioned, for  Mrs.  Boynton's  face  was  deathly  white,  and 
there  was  a  look  about  her  eyes  that  betokened  a  sleep- 
less night. 

"  Is  he  here?"  Tracy  breathlessly  questioned. 

"Whom  do  you  mean?" 

"  My  husband." 

"  I  don't  know — I  haven't  seen  him.  I  heard  some- 
one say  that  Mr.  Brock  had  come." 

"  They  were  together — they  came  last  night,"  Tracy 
rapidly  uttered.  The  boy  had  driven  off,  and  they  stood 
alone  upon  the  veranda,  holding  each  other's  hands,  and 
face  to  face. 

"Tell  me,  what  has  happened?"  Lou  implored,  in  an 
agony  of  apprehension. 

"Oh!  how  can  I  tell  you,  or  anyone  !"£Sptrs.  Boyn- 
ton  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  for  a  moment,  and 
was  silent.  Then  she  looked  at  her  friend  a^ain,  and  it 
was  plain  that  she  was  exercising  an  almost  iron  control 
upon  her  emotions. 

"  I  must  be  calm,"  she  said,  more  slowly." 


138  HER  FAILING. 

"Have  you  had  trouble — with  each  other?"  Lou  ques- 
tioned, in  a  tone  scarce  above  a  whisper.  For  her  ob- 
servant eyes  had  perceived,  upon  more  than  one  occasion, 
that  husband  and  wife  did  not  always  agree. 

"  I  can't  stop  to  tell  you  now — you  shall  know  all  in 
due  time,"  Mrs.  Boynton  replied,  and  she  added: 

"First  I  must  know  if  Chester  is  here;  and  if  he  is, 
I  must  see  him.  Perhaps  I  apprehend  too  great  evils. 
I  am  excited;  my  nerves  are. overwrought." 

She  hastened  into  the  house,  ascended  to  her  rooms,  and 
entered.  Someone  was  sitting  in  a  large  easy  chair  by 
the  window.  He  did  not  stir  as  she  entered.  She  ad- 
vanced and  saw  that  it  was  Chester,  and  that  he  was 
asleep. 

But  he  aroused  as  she  approached,  and  started  to  his 
feet. 

"  Tracy!  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Yes — I  couldn't  wait  for  you  to  come  back,"  she  re- 
turned, going  up  to  him. 

He  stared  at  ner  for  a  moment  in  a  blank,  bewildered 
way.  Then  he  took  her  hands  in  his,  and  gazed  earnestly 
down  into  her  face. 

"  Why  did  you  follow  me? "  he  asked  slowly. 

"  Because,  I  feared — 1  know  not  what." 

«  What  did  you  fear?" 

"  That  you  had  gone  to  see  him." 

"  Mr.  Temple,  do  you  mean? " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  suppose  I  did — what  of  that? " 

His  face  darkened  as  she  uttered  no  response,  and  there 
was  half-suppressed  passion  in  his  tones  as  he  continued: 

"So  you  couldn't  trust  me  to  deal  justly  with  him? 
You  feared  that  I  might  be  just,  perhaps!  Can  it  be 
that  you  dared  not  trust  your  heart's  idol  to  my  hands, 
lest  lie  suffer?" 

"Chester — Chester!"  she  cried,  clinging  to  his  arm, 
and  tears  streaming  from  her  eyes. 


ttER  FAILING. 

Ger  tone,  the  expression  of  anguish  upon  her  beauti- 
ful face,  touched  him,  even  in  his  jealous  frenzy. 

"  Forgive  me,  Tracy !  I  did  not  mean  that,"  he  said, 
relenting. 

And  he  went  on,  as  she  stood,  in  that  beseeching  atti- 
tude before  him: 

"  I  ought  not  to  be  so  harsh  toward  you,  I  know.  The 
fault  is  not  yours,  except  to  a  slight  degree.  I  have  not 
ministered  to  your  happiness  as  I  might  have  done;  and 
it  is  no  wonder  that  you  love  him  better;  than  me. 
But—" 

"  Stop ! "  she  uttered,  almost  sternly.  He  was  silent, 
amazed  by  the  imperativeness  of  her  tone  and  the  gesture 
accompanying  it. 

"  I  do  not  love  Philip  Temple  better  than  you — I  do 
not  love  him  at  all,"  she  cried,  speaking  rapidly.  "  I 
never  loved  him — had  I  done  so,  I  should  not  have  be- 
come your  wife.  Yet  I  confess  that  I  prized  his  friend- 
ship, that  I  was  charmed  by  his  speech,  and  admired  the 
chivalrous  character  which,  in  spite  of  his  weakness,  I 
know  he  possesses.  But  that  is  not  love.  Oh !  why  have 
you  distrusted  me  so?  Why  have  you  been  so  blind  to 
the  truth  ?  It  was  your  growing  distrust  which  has  been 
sundering  our  hearts.  1  ou  should  have  had  more  faith 
in  the  honor  of  her  whom  you  have  made  your  wife. 
Your  violent  jealousy  frightened  me.  Your  sudden  de- 
parture last  night  nearly  drove  me  frantic,  for,  in  the 
mood  which  I  t'eared  you  were  in,  I  dare  not  think  what 
rash  thing  you  might  do." 

While  she  was  speaking  a  gradual  change  came  over 
his  countenance.  There  seemed  to  be,  within  his  heart, 
a  struggle  betwixt  doubt  and  conviction.  But  jealousy, 
once  it  finds  root  in  the  human  ?  icart  is  the  most  stubborn 
of  passions  to  subdue.  It  is  not  satisfied  with  cold  proofs. 
It  feeds,  and  burns  within  itself. 

As  they  stood  thus,  she  gazing  imploringly  up  into  his 
face,  he  with  downcast  eyes,  there  came  a  sharp,  quick 
knock  at  the  door. 


iracy  started  back,  oppressed  by  a  sense  of  impending 
ill.  Her  husband,  with  an  impatient  frown  hastened  to 
the  door  and  flung  it  open.  Two  men  stood  outside. 
One  was  a  large,  coarse-featured  person,  with  small, 
shrewd  eyes;  the  other  was  Jason  Webb.  The  fact  of 
the  latter  was  stern ;  of  the  former  determined. 

"This  Mr.  Boynton?"  the  large  man  inquired,  in  a 
gruff  tone. 
"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Chester  Boynton?" — fumbling  in  his  breast  pocket. 
"  That  is  my  name.     Oblige  me  with  stating  your  busi- 
ness ?    This  is  a  rather  early  hour  for  a  stranger  to  in- 
trude." 

"  It  is,  rather.  But  business  is  business.  I've  in- 
truded on  folks  at  more  unseasonable  times  than  this. 
Hauled  one  chap  right  out  of  bed  not  long  ago — been 
stealing  you  understand." 

He  had  by  this  time  produced  the  document  for  which 
he  had  been  fumbling  in  his  pockets. 
__  "  I  have  a  warrant  for  your  arrest,  Mr.  Boynton,  upon 
a  charge  of  a  probably  successful  attempt  upon  the  life  of 
Philip  Temple — for  the  doctor  says  he  must  die.  Better 
not  make  any  trouble.  As  you  look  like  a  gentleman  I 
won't  put  the  wristlets  on  if  you're  peaceable!" 

The  man  clapped  one  brawny  hand  upon  Boynton's 
shoulder  as  he  spoke.  At  the  same  time  Tracy  sprang 
between  them  frantically  crying: 

"He  is  innocent! — I  know  he  is  innocent! — he  would 
never  do  that,  never,  never/" 

The  sheriff  gently  pushed  her  aside.  The  gruffness  of 
his  manner  all  vanished  at  sight  of  her  beauty  and  the 
anguish  of  her  countenance. 

"  This  is  too  bad,  1  declare!"  he  exclaimed,  shrugging 
his  shoulders.  But  fortunately,  perhaps,  the  young  wife 
could  withstand  no  further  strain  opon  her  senses.  For, 
at  that  moment,  she  was  overcome  with  faintness,  and 
sank  in  a  swoon  at  the  officer's  feet. 

There  was  confusion  in  the  hotel  at  once.     It  had  al- 


HEE  FAILING.  lil 

ready  become  noised  among  the  guests  that  an  officer  had 
come  to  arrest  Chester  Boynton  for  murder,  and  the  cor- 
ridor became  crowded  with  servants  of  the  house  and 
friends  of  the  unfortunate  couple. 

"  I  will  go  with  you,"  Boynton  declared,  as  soon  as  he 
could  find  voice  to  speak.  "  But,"  he  continued,  in  a 
tone  of  wonderful  calmness,  "I  assure  you  to  begin  with 
that  you  have  made  a  grave  mistake.  I  am  innocent  of 
any  crime;  I  saw  Mr.  Temple  in  all  his  health  and 
strength  last  night,  and  parted  from  him  with  no  thought 
of  violence." 

"That  may  all  be,"  the  sheriff  replied.  "I  don't  con- 
vict you,  bear  in  mind.  But  the  charge  is  backed  up 
pretty  strong,  and  I  must  do  my  duty." 

Before  leaving  the  corridor,  Bo v;iton  espied  Lou  "Went- 
worth,  and  hastily  said  to  her  ;is  iv  passed: 

"Take  care  of  my  poor  darling;  see  that  nothing  for 
her  comfort  is  left  undone.  Tell  her  that  I  am  innocent.  I 
know  that  the  test  will  be  a  severe  one  to  her,  but  if  she 
withstands  it,  the  angels  of  heaven  could  never  shake  my 
confidence  in  her  again!" 

This  was  all  he  had  time  to  say;  and  in  another  mo- 
ment he  was  hurried  away  by  the  impatient  officer. 
*         *         •*#'*         *'*         *         * 

Mrs.  Boynton,  upon  recovering  consciousness,  recov- 
ered at  the  same  time  her  usual  calmness.  Now  that 
the  worst  had  happened,  the  tension  to  which  her  nerves 
had  been  subjected  was  slackened,  and  she  became 
marvelously  cool  and  self-possessed. 

"Yes,  Chester  is  innocent  as  I  am,"  she  repeatedly 
declared  in  the  long  interview  which  she  presently  held 
with  Roy  Blanchard  and  Lou  Wentworth — for  to  them 
alone  did  she  feel  like  entrusting  the  many  things  which 
the  emergency  required  to  be  done.  Roy  developed,  at 
this  time,  a  surprising  amount  of  sound  judgment,  and  a 
knowledge  of  what  the  occasion  required.  He  had  seen 
Jason  Webb,  and  obtained  from  him  the  evidence  which 
certainly  made  the  case  a  dark  one  for  Chester  Boynton. 


HEB  FAILING. 

"  If  Mr.  Temple  is  still  alive,  cannot  the  truth  be  ob- 
tained from  him?"  Lou  questioned. 

"  He  hasn't  spoken  a  word  since  the  Webbs  discovered 
him,"  Roy  answered,  gravely. 

" Doesn't  the  doctor  give  any  hope?"    . 

"Very  little." 

"  And  if  he  should  die,  without  recovering  conscious- 
ness?"- 

"  The  case  would  be  a  dark  one,  that  is  all.  But  we'll 
hope  for  the  best.  In  the  meantime  we  must  get  legal 
counsel  for  Mr.  Boynton.  He  must  have  the  best." 

Roy  went  away  upon  this  important  errand.  He  con- 
sulted with  Mr.  Boynton,  who  was  locked  into  a  room  in 
the  village  court-house  —for  the  place  could  boast  of  no 
jail.  An  attempt  to  obtain  Chester's  release  under  bail 
was  made,  but  without  success.  The  case  was  too  grave 
a  one — for,  as  the  hours  passed,  it  became  almost  a  cer- 
tainty that  Philip  Temple  would  die.  Mr.  Boynton 
must  await  the  result  of  the  crime,  and  if  it  terminated 
fatally,  then  he  would  be  required  to  answer  to  the  charge 
of  murder. 

Tracy  visited  him  also;  and  when  she  came  forth,  and 
entered  the  carriage  in  which  Lou  and  Roy  were  waiting 
for  her,  there  was  a  look  of  tearful  joy  upon  her  beauti- 
ful face — such  an  expression  as  they  had  never  seen  there 
before. 

They  did  not  ask  the  cause.  Instinctively  they  knew 
the  truth,  before  she  said  to  them,  after  a  loDg  period  of 
silence: 

"  Whatever  comes,  we  trust  each  other.  And  when  he 
is  cleared  of  this  dreadful  suspicion  we  shall  begin  a  new 
life,  into  which  no  distrust  or  lack  of  harmony  can  en- 
ter." 

This  was  all  she  said  to  them  then.  And  in  her  new 
happiness — the  joy  of  reconciliation — she  seemed  for  the 
time  to  almost  forget  the  dreadful  danger  menacing  her 
husband. 

The  days  that  immediately  followed  were  full  of  pain- 


HER  FAILING.  143 

ful  suspense.  At  the  Webb  cottage  the  victim  of  that 
terrible  crime,  Philip  Temple,  lay  pale  and  unconscious, 
his  life  hanging  by  a  thread.  Tracy  visited  the  cottage 
every  day ;  and  she  spent  mamy  an  hour  at  the  bedside  of 
her  former  lover,  ministering  to  his  needs  with  all  the 
tenderness  of  a  sister. 

"  Oh,  live,  live/"  she  implored  in  her  gentle  tones, 
whenever  she  was  left  alone  in  the  room  with  the  patient. 
Upon  one  of  these  occasions  he  opened  his  eyes  and  tixed 
them  upon  her  face.  It  seemed  as  though  he  recognized 
her — as  though  he  were  about  to  speak.  With  intense 
eagerness  she  bent  over  him. 

"  Philip,  do  you  not  know  me?"  she  softly  questioned. 

His  lips  moved ;  his  face  lighted  up.  With  mad  eager- 
ness she  bent  her  face  closer  to  his,  breathlessly  exclaim- 
ing: 

"  Tell  me,  Philip,  who  struck  you  ?  I  am  Tracy — 
don't  you  see?  Tell  me  who  struck  the  cruel  blow?" 

Would  he  answer?  It  seemed  for  a  moment  as  though 
he  would  surely  do  so.  A  wild,  swift  prayer  went  up 
from  her  heart.  But  the  next  moment  she  drew  back 
with  a  cry  of  dispair.  For  Philip  had  closed  his  eyes; 
the  look  of  recognition  faded  from  his  face ;  he  sank  into 
the  heavy  stupor  which  had  characterized  his  illness  from 
the  first. 


144  THE  END   OF  IT  ALL. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE   END   OF    IT   ALL. 

"The  tale  repeated  o'er  and  o'er, 
With  change  of  place  and  change  of  name, 
Disguised,  transformed,  and  yet  the  same, 
We've  heard  a  hundred  times  before." 

— Longfellow. 

"  The  doctor  says  he  may  live,  but  that  he  cannot  re- 
cover his  memory  of  past  events  for  months ;  perhaps 
never." 

Roy  Blanchard  said  this  to  Lou,  as  they  walked 
slowly  away  from  the  Webb  cottage,  nearly  two  weeks 
the  events  just  described. 

The  hour  was  near  sunset.  The  air  was  pure  and 
sweet,  after  a  balmy  September  day.  Roy  and  Lou  were 
also  among  the  frequent  visitors  at  the  cottage,  and  they 
nearly  always  went  together. 

During  these  two  weeks  they  had  got  along  very  har- 
moniously. Perhaps  this  was  because  they  had  not  ven- 
tured upon  anything  like  love  making  during  the  entire 
period,  as  they  had  been  deeply  engaged  by  the  troubles 
of  their  friends. 

"  How,  then,  will  Mr.  Boynton's  case  ever  be  settled?" 
Lou  questioned. 

"If  Mr.  Temple  lives,  the  sentence  will  not  be  so 
heavy,  at  least.  But  there  will  certainly  be  a  sentence  of 
some  severity,  and  Mr.  Boynton  must  remain  under  the 
shadow  of  a  most  terrible  crime!" 

This  was  rather  gloomily  spoken,  and  Lou  made  no 
response.  For  several  moments  they  walked  onward  in 
silence.  Suddenly  Roy  paused  and  sank  upon  a  flat  rock 
beside  the  path.  Lou  looked  at  him  in  surprise. 

"  Why  have  you  stopped  here?  "  she  asked. 

"  It  is  a  good  place  to  get  rested,"  he  answered. 

"Are  you  tired?" 

"  Yes,  rather.     Aren't  you?    I  wish  you  would  sit  here 


THE   END    OF    IT  ALL.  145 

with  me.     I  haven't  had  a  good  talk  with  you  for  a  long 
while." 

She  hesitated. 

"  I  think  I'm  not  tired,"  she  slowly  declared.  Yet  she 
allowed  him  to  draw  her  to  a  seat  by  his  side. 

"  Don't  you  think  it  is  about  time  that  we  got  better 
acquainted  with  each  other?"  he  asked. 

\  I  thought  we  were  pretty  well  acquainted  already," 
she  demurely  answered. 

"  It  is  all  upon  one  side.  You  understand  me  well 
enough,  I'm  sure.  You  can  see  that  I  am  miserable 
nearly  all  the  time — miserable  because  of  my  uncertainty. 
If  I  only  knew  whether  you  loved  me,  or  were  plotting 
to  make  a  misanthrope  of  me.  If  I  only  knew." 

She  looked  at  him  in  vague  wonder.  There  was  a  deal 
of  passionate  earnestness  expressed  in  his  tones.  Was  it 
real  or  feigned?  Lou  Wentworth's  heart  throbbed  with  a 
sudden  hope.  Was  he  in  earnest,  after  all?  If  so,  why 
did  he  not  speak  plainly?  If  he  loved  her,  and  wished 
her  to  be  his  wife,  why  did  he  not  tell  her  so  ? 

"  I'm  going  to  take  the  risks,"  Roy  went  on,  with  a 
determined  air.  "  I'm  not  going  to  remain  in  doubt  an- 
other hour.  I  cannot  suffer  from  humiliated  pride  now; 
it  is  only  my  heart  that  can  suffer,  and  in  that  I  have  no 
rest  already." 

He  paused,  looking  at  her  with  beseeching  earnestness. 
Her  face  was  half -averted ;  her  eyes  drooped. 

"  Whenever  I  have  approached  you  in  anything  like  an 
earnest  manner,"  he  continued,  "  you  have  treated  me  with 
a  lightness  which  has  warned  me  off.  I  have  tried  very 
hard  to  satisfy  myself  that  what  I  have  heard  concerning 
you  was  false,  but  I  have  been  baffled  by  your  guarded- 
ness.  But  I  shall  not  be  frightened  off  again.  If  you 
have  the  heart  to  add  me  to  the  list  of  your  victims  you 
may  do  so.  I  am  in  your  power — be  unmerciful  if  you 
will." 

She  interrupted  him  by  a  sudden,  imperative  gesture. 
10 


146  THE    END    OF    IT  ALL. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  she  demanded,  an  indignant 
flash  in  her  tones.  He  hesitated,  and  she  went  on : 

"  Tell  me — why  do  you  speak  of  me  in  that  way  ? 
Whom  do  you  mean  by  my  list  of  victims  ?  Do  you  ac- 
cuse me  of  winning  hearts  and  casting  them  off  ?" 

He  half  rose  to  his  feet;  he  caught  her  hands  in  both 
his  own,  holding  them  fast. 

"  Isn't  it  true,  then  ?"  he  questioned.  "  I  was  told  that 
you  were  heartless,  that  you  had  ruined  the  existence  of 
a  worthy  young  man  by  coquetry.  I  was  told  that  you 
delighted  in  the  use  of  your  power  over  the  hearts  of  men ; 
that  you  won  them  as  a  mere  idle  sport,  and  laughed 
at  their  folly.  I  was  told  all  this  before  I  saw  you, 
and  I  was  warned  to  keep  out  of  your  meshes.  But  in 
vain.  I  have  loved  you  from  the  first,  and  I  love  you 
now  as  the  saints  love  their  patron!  Lou,  Lou! — are  you 
heartless?  Is  it  impossible  for  you  to  be  won?" 

"Who  told  you  this?"  she  demanded,  drawing  away 
from  him,  as  though  in  doubt. 

"  TeH  me  it  is  false,  and  you  shall  know  who  has  been 
your  traducer,"  he  eagerly  returned. 

"  It  is  false — every  word.  I  never  pretended  to  love 
anyone.  I — I  once  rejected  the  love  or  one  whom  I  had 
regarded  only  as  a  friend.  But  I  never  encouraged  him, 
and  that  his  heart  was  not  broken  is  proven  by  his  mar- 
rying a  later  choice — and  for  love,  too. " 

Possibly  she  would  have  said  more  if  he  had  permitted. 
But  he  did  not.  He  drew  her  to  his  heart  in  a  close 
embrace,  a  flood  of  words  springing  from  his  lips — such 
words  of  fond  endearment  as  only  a  first  true  love  can 
inspire.  Blushing,  trembling,  with  tears  of  unutterable 
joy  in  her  eyes,  she  yielded  herself  to  his  strong,  enfold- 
ing arms. 

How  the  moments  of  that  sweet  silence  flew!  How 
short  human  life  would  be  if  all  its  moments  sped  thus! 

She  drew  herself  shyly  aw,ay  at  length,  and  they  seated 
themselves  upon  the  rock.  He  still  clung  to  her  hands, 
caressing  them. 


THE   END   OF   IT  ALL.  147 

"How  strange  that  we  should  misunderstand  each 
other  so  long,"  she  softly  exclaimed,  gazing  out  among 
the  deepening  shadowy. 

"  It  is  not  strange,  under  the  conditions  of  our  ac- 
quaintance. I  was  warned  against  you,  and  like  a  blind 
fool  I  resolved  not  to  love  you.  I  resolved  that  you 
should  not  triumph  over  me,  as  you  had  done  over  other 
victims.  That  is  why  I  appeared  so  fickle.  My  impulses 
would  at  times  make  me  betray  myself,  and  then  when  I 
imagined  you  were  trying  to  draw  me  on  to  make  a 
declaration  of  my  love  I  would  become  guarded  again. 
And  you  loved  me  all  the  while,  darling?  Did  your' 

"Tfes!"  Yery  softly  the  word  was  spoken.  More 
time  fleeted  past.  And  then,  eagerly : 

"  But  you  have  not  told  me  the  name  of  the  enemy 
who  traduced  me?" 

He  hesitated.     Then  he  replied : 

"  I  half  distrusted  him  all  the  while.  And  yet  I  could 
not  see  why  he  should  wish  to  keep  us  apart.  It  was 
Mr.  Brock!" 

*'  The  villain!"  she  cried.  "  He  would  not  let  anyone 
in  the  world  be  happy  if  he  could  help  it.  He  would 
like  to  have  everyone  lonely,  and  bitter,  and  shivering 
in  the  cold,  like  himself.  He  tried  to  separate  Mr.  Boyn- 
ton  and  Tracy.  But  for  him  her  husband  would  never 
have  been  jealous.  But,  like  a  serpent,  Mr.  Brock  fasci- 
nated his  victim,  winning  his  confidence.  Then,  upon 
the  evening  that  Philip  Temple  was  first  at  the  hotel, 
and  he  and  Tracy  sat  upon  the  veranda  together,  Mr. 
Brock  and  her  husband  were  out  upon  one  of  their  strolls 
together.  "When  they  returned,  Tracy  was  frightened  by 
Mr.  Boynton's  appearance.  He  did  not  explain  the  cause 
until  since  his  arrest.  Then  he  told  her  that  Mr.  Brock 
told  him  the  story  of  his  life.  How  that  he  wedded, 
years  ago,  a  beautiful  girl;  how  he  nearly  worshiped 
her,  how  he  was  then  like  other  men,  full  of  confidence 
in  his  fellow  beings ;  and  how  his  wife  was  won  by  a  for- 
mer lover,  and  lost  to  him,  plunging  him.  into  life-long 


148  THE   END   OF   IT  ALL. 

misery,  and  causing  him  to  become  the  misanthrope  he 
is.  He  told  the  story  in  such  painfully  vivid  language 
that  it  made  a  strong  impression  upon  the  mind  or  Mr. 
Boynton.  And  then  his  jealousy  was  born,  for,  from 
Brock,  he  also  learned  that  Tracv  and  Mr.  Temple  were 
once  betrothed  lovers.  Brock  lias  been  the  serpent  in 
Eden  from  the  first." 

"  And  to  think  how  near  he  came  to  keeping  us  apart, 
too!  I  could  throttle  the  villain!"  Roy  vehemently  ex- 
claimed. 

A  minute  later  Lou  sprang  to  her  feet. 

"See — how  dark  it  is  growing,"  she  cried. 

In  their  new-found  joy  they  had  not  noticed  that  the 
twilight  had  deepened  into  darkness.  There  was  no  moon, 
and  mere  were  cloud -patches  overhead. 

"  We  must  go  back,  and  hasten,  too,"  Lou  eagerly  de- 
clared. She  shivered  as  she  glanced  toward  the  darkness 
into  which  they  must  go.  She  thought  of  the  mysterious 
light;  of  the  fatal  attack  upon  Philip  Temple;  of  the 
wild,  strange  stories  concerning  the  locality  which  were 
afloat. 

Together  they  moved  along  the  path.  As  they  neared 
the  spot  at  which  the  strange  light  was  usually  seen,  Lou 
slung  more  closely  to  the  arm  of  her  companion. 

When  they  reached  the  spot,  both  instinctively  glanced 
toward  the  place  whence  the  light  was  accustomed  to 
shine.  But  it  was  not  there.  The  spot  was  enshrouded 
in  densest  gloom.  But  as  they  moved  on,  they  heard  the 
muffled  tread  of  a  horse.  They  paused,  and  withdrew 
themselves  from  the  path.  Lou  trembled  violently ;  and 
Roy,  in  spite  of  his  accustomed  self-possession,  was  in- 
stinctively impressed  by  a  sense  of  impending  events. 

The  horse  drew  nearer ;  then  the  sound  of  voices  be- 
came audible.  These  continued  for  several  moments. 
Then  there  were  other  sounds — a  shout,  the  rapid  tramp 
of  many  feet,  the  galloping  of  a  horse,  and  several  objects 
sped  past  the  place  of  our  friends'  concealment.  An  in- 
stant later  there  were  other  shouts,  seemingly  in  pursuit; 


THE   ESTD   OF  IT  AUL. 


lights  Cashed  athwart  the  gftoom;  and  last,  with  gtartling 

~.L~   >.  _^I-  1   •.  I    i   I.  .!?"•.•.    -_     '.. 


Boy  saw  a  man,  who  was  running  part  of 
stumble  and  fill  headlong  to  the  earth,  uttering  a,  low 
ay  of  pain.  A  moment  later  two  men  with  lantern? 
rushed  upon  die  scene,  and  one  of  them  bent  over  the 
one  who  had  fallen.  Boy  recognized  both  of  the  new- 
comers. One  was  Jmi  Kk^  the  other  th^Tillj^fiheriff. 
And  at  the  same  time  others  appeared,  who  were  unmis- 
takably comitahlcft.  Several  ran  on  in  pursuit  of  the 


1  We've  got  one  of  the  rascals,  anyhow,'*  Bice  ex- 
claimed. 

-IshedeadP  the sheriff  asked. 

"Ho." 

a  Well  take  him  along  with  us,  tiaea,  and  make  him 
'peach'  on  the  others.77 

Boy  Blanehard  at  this  moment  stepped  into  the  path, 
Jjam.  enmnng  to  his  arm,  pallid  with  sear. 

Jim  Race  and  the  sheriff  starred  at  them  in  open- 
mouthed  astonishment. 

^  What  is  the  meaning  of  thisf  Boy  demanded. 

"  Hoss-dueTes,""  Bice  laconic*!] T  answered.  He  s t,c K»d 
over  the  fallen  stranger,  tall  and  gaunt,  swinging  his 
lantern  to  and  fim. 

tt  They  stole  my  hoes  a  speH  ago,and  theyVe  stole  four 
or  five  at  the  village  afioie  this.  And  last  night  they  got 
throe  more  front  tap  liiu j  HlalJf ,  W^'^e  been  watelion" 
for  'em,  and  now  we\e  got  on  their  track.  And  I  guess 
when  we  get  7em  an  m  thejoeknp  that  mysterious  light 
wont 


Boy  listened  to  this  piece  of  information  with  uncon- 
cealed eagerness.  A  sudden,  *:lHrfl"ng  suspicion  had 
taken  possession  of  his  brain.  He  bent  over  the  fallen 
thief,  who  lay  in  sullen.  «•!<*»**»  staring  up  into  their 
faces. 

**  TeH  me,  man,"  Boy  Blanehard  cried,  "gazing  down 
into  the  face  of  the  ruffian,  •"  do  you  know  whom  struck 


150  THE   END   OF   IT  ALL. 

down  Philip  Temple  two  weeks  ago  this  night  ?  If  you 
know,  speak  and  save  an  innocent  man  from  condemna- 
tion." 

The  man  compressed  his  lips;  for  a  moment  he  hesi- 
tated. 

"If  I  should  tell  you?"  he  presently  asked  in  a  husky 
tone. 

"  All  that  influence  and  money  can  do  for  you  shall  be 
done,"  was  the  quick  reply. 

"  All  right.  I  didn't  knock  the  chap  down,  and  the 
one  that's  arrested  didn't,  neither.  The  cap'n  did  it — 
the  boss  of  our  gang.  The  young  chap  was  too  persistent 
trying  to  find  out  what  our  signal  light  meant,  and  so  the 
boss  served  him  as  he  did  young  Webb — only  this  chap, 
'cording  to  all  accounts,  got  the  heaviest  rap.  Pretty 
nigh  killed  him,  didn't  it?" 

Who  can  depict  the  eager  delight  with  which  Roy 
Blanchard  and  Lou  Wentworth  listened  to  this  confes- 
sion, made  there  by  the  weird  light  of  swaying  lanterns, 
with  the  dark  shadows  all  around  them?  Or  describe 
their  haste  back  to  the  hotel,  and  the  joy  which  they 
brought  to  the  beautiful,  faithful  wife. 

"  I  knew  Chester  was  innocent !"  Tracy  repeatedly 
cried,  in  the  ecstacy  of  her  joy.  "  I  knew  God  would  not 

let  him  suffer  for  another's  crime!" 

******* 

It  is  not  in  the  fate  of  the  horse  thieves,  who  had  so 
long  held  their  mountain  retreat,  unsuspected  by  those 
who  lived  below,  that  the  reader  is  most  interested.  Nor 
do  you  care  whether  Jim  Rice,  and  the  village  people  re- 
covered their  missing  horses  or  not.  You  may  have  a 
passing  interest  to  know  that  Mr.  Stacy  recovered  from 
his  fractured  limb;  that  Jason  Webb  and  his  brave  little 
wife  continued  to  live  in  simple  prosperity,  a  whole 
world  to  each  other.  You  have  a  deeper  anxiety  for 
Philip  Temple,  who  had  been  called  upon  to  suffer  so 
much.  You  are  curious  to  know  what  has  become  of  the 
cold,  snake-like  Mr.  Brock ;  the  winsome  Alma  Bui-ton ; 


THE    END    OF    IT  ALL.  151 

perhaps  you  have  a  passing  thought  of  the  Gridleys,  and 
of  the  other  minor  actors  in  our  little  drama. 

Concerning  the  horse  thieves,  let  it  suffice  that  their 
capture  and  confessions  cleared  Chester  Boynton  from 
every  dark  suspicion.  And,  upon  his  release,  he  gave  his 
personal  attention  to  the  case  of  Philip  Temple,  and 
through  his  influence  one  of  the  most  noted  physicians 
in  the  country  was  secured  to  concentrate  his  skill  in  the 
young  man's  behalf.  The  result  was  not  achieved  at 
once.  There  were  weeks  of  uncertainty;  but  the  efforts 
of  his  friends  were  at  last  crowned  with  success,  and 
Philip  got  well — slowly,  yet  surely. 

The  next  summer  saw  them  all  back  at  Yinton's  Re- 
treat— all  save  Mr.  Temple  and  Brock.  The  latter  went 
south  for  the  winter;  and  it  was  thought  that  he  found 
the  tropical  climate  congenial,  for  he  has  not  been  seen 
at  the  north  since.  The  reconciliation  of  Tracy  and  her 
husband  was  complete.  Their  experience,  in  which  both 
were  at  fault,  has  taught  them  a  lesson,  and  now  their 
love  and  confidence  is  building  upon  surer  foundations. 
They  meet  Philip  occasionally.  He  and  Chester  are  the 
warmest  of  friends.  Yet  the  memory  of  his  own  folly— 
the  giving  way  to  that  mad  sweep  of  passion — can  never 
be  effaced.  He  will  never  marry.  Of  this  we  are  sure, 
for,  in  his  heart  of  hearts,  he  loves  Tracy  Boynton  still; 
loves  her  the  better  for  her  faithfulness  to  her  husband ; 
for  her  strength,  her  purity,  her  honor.  But  there  is  no 
danger  of  his  ever  becoming  weak  again,  for  his  regard 
for  the  wife  of  Chester  Boynton,  though  deep  and  strong, 
is  as  chaste  as  that  of  a  brother. 

Roy  and  Lou  were  not  married  for  nearly  a  year. 
Since  their  return  from  their  wedding  tour  abroad  they 
have  dwelt  near  the  home  of  the  Boyntons,  and  in  sum- 
mer they  go  to  the  mountain  retreat  where  they  first  met. 
And  there  they  hold  mock-quarrels ;  and  pretend  to  mis- 
understand each  other.  Lou  visits  the  magic  spring  and 
sees  the  face  of  her  husband  reflected  there — for  he  leans 
over  her  shoulder  at  the  moment.  And  so  their  lives  go 


152'  THE   END   OF   IT  ALL. 

on — not  all  brightness  nor  all  poetry,  to  be  sure,  but  as 
happy  as  true  love  ever  is.  It  is  Southey  who  said  of 
love  and  its  endurance: 


"  It  is  indestructible ; 
Its  holy  flame  forever  burneth : 
From  heaven  it  came,  to  heaven  returneth. 


THE    END. 


•  11  HP 


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